The Church Channel
by Marie de Sade
Summary: "What's wrong with you?" Sam asked. "What's wrong with me?" Dean hissed back. "You've locked me up in a freaking asylum and my boyfriend has six people living in his head." DID!Cas PTSD!Dean
1. Chapter 1

**Genres: Angst, hurt-comfort**

**Rating: Hard R, soft NC-17**

**Pairing: Dean/Cas(main), also Dean/Jimmy, ****Dean/Leviathan, ****Dean/Emmanual, ****Dean/Godstiel, one-sided ****Dean/Misha. Sam/Jessica and mentions of Cas/Meg and Dean/Lisa**

**Warning: Mentions and/or depictions of self-harm, suicide (attempts), addictions, rape, sexual abuse, pathological lying, eating disorders, PTSD, ASPD, pyromania, Windigo psychosis, child abuse, cheating, DID (multiple personalities), abuse of doctor privilege, Borderline Personality disorder, stalking, depression, torture, war, homophobia, murder**

**AN: Having said that the story isn't as depressing as the amount of warning might imply, I just figured it would be better to over-warn.**

**AN2: If you think I'm misrepresenting something PM with your concerns, I'm actually quite concerned with accurate representation. **

* * *

**Warner's Mental Hospital**

**Name:** Dean Winchester

**Date of Birth: **January 24, 1979

**Place of Birth:** Lawrence, Kansas

**Occupation:** Mechanic, Soldier

**Diagnoses: **Post-traumatic Stress Disorder

**Onset of symptoms:** September, 2008

**Homicidal:** _ **Suicidal:** x [one possible attempt on May 2, 2011] **Smoker:** _

**Emergency Contact:** Sam Winchester (brother)

**Date of Discharge:** _

**Date of Re-Admission:** _

"This is so stupid," Dean growled. "I should have taken the jail time."

"Come on Dean, it doesn't look so bad," Sam tried to reassure his brother, who slouched in his chair and tried to ignore everyone and everything around him. The front office was painted a pale blue and plastered with motivational posters. Once she noticed their presence, the secretary greeted them with a warm smile and buzzed the people upstairs that they had arrived. "I'll visit you."

"Sure you will," Dean snorted. "I'm sure you'll make the two hour drive every weekend. Bring the wife, we'll have a freakin' family picnic."

"Of course Jess will come, she's worried about you too." Dean glared at him, but the elevator doors dinged and opened before he could argue with his brother anymore. A man and a woman in white coats stepped out. They exchanged a few hushed whispers and one tapped her clipboard before they looked over at the brothers. The man walked over to the secretary while the woman made her way over to them.

"Dr. Kripke is grabbing some documents for you to sign, Mr. Winchester, and then we can give you a tour of the facilities." She smiled down at Dean and held out her hand. "I'm Dr. Candace Hill, I'll be your–"

"Yeah, you're the one that gives me happy pills, signs the release forms, and then sets me loose on all those innocent bystanders in six freaking months."

"Dean! You're not making this any easier, just give it a chance," Sam groused, frowning at his older brother.

"Mr. Winchester, six months is just a guide line, it might not be that long."

"Or maybe it's the rest of my life."

"I doubt that." She gave a tired smile and slipped out of her professional voice and into something more natural. "Your insurance wouldn't cover it."

The tour of the building was even more boring than Dean had thought. The doctors showed him the first few floors, even though it was obvious patients weren't allowed there. Everything needed a key card to be opened — it seemed even when things were normal they were still on constant lock down. Floor four was lined with rooms and number twenty-six was his, a worn bed and a night table on one side and a small dresser on the other. He looked into the tiny bathroom, which was, fortunately, reserved solely for him, as Sam dropped his bag on the bed and talked to Dr. Hill. A small plastic mirror and shower with no curtain rod or shower-head, only a small metal knob that dripped water down from the ceiling. Dean guessed they must have stamped suicide risk all over his file.

"Dean," Sam came up behind him and snapped him out of his thoughts. "I have to go, Dr. Hill is going to show you the rest of the place."

"Whatever."

"Look, it wouldn't kill you just to give it a chance." Sam put his hand on Dean's arm but he just shrugged it off. They stood in silence forgetting Dr. Hill was still in the room, Dean waiting for Sam to leave and Sam waiting for Dean to get his head out of his ass. After a few minutes Sam realized that Dean was going to make things as difficult as possible, and he couldn't help the tired sigh that escaped him. "Fine Dean, do whatever you want. I'm going home."

As much as Dean was still pissed, angry at the doctors, the judge, the cop, _that man_, he couldn't ever stay mad at Sam. And watching him walk away, _maybe never to return again_, a part of him hissed, Dean let out a heavy sigh of his own and stopped Sam at the door. "Just… just tell Jess I say hi."

Sam smiled at him and nodded before Dr. Kripke led him back down to the bottom floor. As much as Dean wanted to run after him and beg not to be left in this hell hole, he knew it wouldn't do any good. It was either this or jail. He remembered Bobby yelling at him, saying he was damn lucky he even had a choice because most people wouldn't. He sure as hell was glad his dad wasn't alive to see him end up in a place like this.

Dr. Hill offered to take him to the rec room so he could meet the other 'guests,' like this was some kind of resort instead of a full-security crazy house. And, quite frankly, Dean didn't really want to meet any of them — he didn't belong here dammit — but he figured he needed to play nice. The rec room wasn't anything fancy, just a gray room with a set of swinging doors to separate it from the doctors' offices.

"Group therapy is split up into two groups, A and B. Group B is in session right now, so it'll be a bit more quiet in the rec room than usual." She waved over a girl with long wavy hair who seemed to be sorting several boxes of crayons into colour groups. "Meg will show you around. I'll let you get used to the place first, so we won't have any therapy sessions today or tomorrow. Does that sound good?"

"Whatever."

Dean could tell that the girl, Meg, was checking him out as she walked over, smirking without reserve once she stopped in front of the doctor. "What's up, Doc?"

"Meg, this is Dean Winchester, he'll be staying with us for a bit." Dean supposed that sounded better then 'a court decided he was too crazy to be around normal people so they had him locked up.' "Would you take him around to meet the others?" Without waiting for an answer, Hill looked at Dean and continued, "I'll be seeing you soon, Dean," before walking away.

"Mm, fresh meat," Meg grinned as soon as the doctor was out of ear shot and stepped into Dean's personal space. He felt her chest just barely rub against him. "You're gonna hate it here, everyone does. Come on, I'll introduce you to the other whack-jobs."

She pulled him further into the room, past a man clad in a trench coat who was playing chess with himself and a girl curled up on the couch watching television. She didn't bother telling him who they were. The place was surprisingly clean, not like he had been expecting, but there was a line separating the room in half like someone had scribbled a bright red permanent marker across the floor. A group of people sat at a table playing cards, and Meg pulled a chair up for Dean but didn't sit down herself. He looked down at the chair and felt everyone's eyes on him, as if they were waiting for him to freak out and cause a scene. He raised his hand to pull the chair closer but another hand suddenly wrapped firmly around his wrist, and before Dean knew what was happening, he was being dragged back to the other side of the room.

"Whoa, whoa, hold on buddy, what are you doing?" He asked, ripping his wrist out of the strangers grasp and glaring.

"I saved you," the man said, looking quite pleased with himself over it. Dean realized that this was the same man who had been playing chess with himself before.

"You what? Who are you?"

"I'm Castiel. I'm the one who gripped you tight and raised you from perdition."

"Perdition?"

"Hell," he clarified, his voice rough with annoyance, and pointed over to the group of people on the other side of the red line.

"Uh, okay... I was actually doing fine over there."

"You don't think you deserved to be saved?" Castiel's head tilted to the side and his blue eyes bore into Dean. He stiffened at the accusation, coming from a total stranger who knew nothing about him.

"I didn't say that," he growled. Castiel stepped forward, now standing less then two inches from him, his breath hot against Dean's cheek and his eyes still narrowed with mild confusion.

"Come, we have much to discuss." Then Castiel grabbed him again and pulled him down the hall before Dean had the chance to argue. The patients behind him burst out in knowing laughter as they watched the two men disappear behind the swinging door. Castiel dragged him to the stairway, the only actual door that could be opened without a key card, finally letting him go when the door slammed shut behind them.

"I've been waiting for you."

Dean didn't answer. His throat felt too tight to speak, his hands were suddenly sweaty, and he felt like he was on fire. He didn't remember the stairway being so goddamn small, and the walls just kept getting closer and closer and Castiel was standing between him and the door, still going on about demons and Hell and some other bullshit. He turned, muscles tense and ready to run up the stairs back to the safety of what was now his room, but Castiel wrapped a hand tight around Dean's bicep and pulled him back. He acted without thinking, kicking a leg out and hitting Castiel hard enough that he let go of Dean, who quickly turned back around and grabbed hold of the man's beige coat, shoving him back into the stone wall. Castiel's eyes went unfocused and he hissed, the sound snapping Dean out of his attack and he let go of Castiel, who stumbled a bit but remained standing. He looked at Dean with a confused, still blurry stare and watched him as he rushed out the door.

Dean slammed his hands against the wall and leaned his forehead against it, breathing heavy and heart beating so fast he thought his chest might burst. The door behind him opened and closed but Dean ignored it, ignored Castiel as he stood behind him silently observing the man who had just attacked him.

"You are not yet ready to return to earth," Castiel sighed and walked closer to Dean who lifted his head only slightly, looking at Castiel over the edge of his arm. The man did not meet Dean's gaze, only ran his eyes up and down Dean's body before he nodded to himself, as if coming to some sort of agreement with himself. "You are very important, and you can be saved, but first I will need to fix you."

"Well," Dean snorted as his pulse finally began to slow, "you're going to be at that for a long time."


	2. Chapter 2

The cafeteria was noisy in the afternoon. Dean had skipped breakfast, because life outside his tiny room was full of crazy people, but the smell of burgers wafted up from the kitchen and he couldn't resist. He stood awkwardly at the door, unsure of how to get food, until he saw another patient walk into a pair of swinging doors and come back out with a tray full of food. Dean saw Castiel sitting alone at one of the tables spurting ketchup and mustard onto a burger and shoving some fries in his mouth. The man still made Dean a little uneasy, but the only other person he knew was the Meg girl and she was nowhere to be seen. Castiel didn't look up when Dean slid onto the bench across from him, too busy trying to keep the contents of his burger from slipping out of the bun. "Hey, how's it going?"

Castiel shot him a confused look, the burger hovering just in front of his mouth and a piece of bacon slipped out onto the tray. "Fine."

"The food any good around here?" Castiel lowered the burger back down to the tray but didn't let go. He looked at Dean carefully like he was studying him and it gave Dean the chance to do the same. He was certainly less imposing than he'd been the day before: he'd ditched that ugly trench coat for jeans, a T-shirt and a sweater that hung off his thin body.

"This is the best damn burger in the universe," he said after a few moments, apparently having determined that Dean wasn't a threat.

"Uh, well, that's great." The words sounded odd coming from Castiel, but Dean figured it wasn't like he knew him well enough to judge his character. Castiel shoved the piece of bacon back into the burger and lifted it up again but Dean's voice made him pause before he could take a bite. "So what's there to do around here?"

"Well, right now, I'm going to eat my burger, is that okay with you?" He snapped out, glaring at Dean.

"Whoa, what the hell's wrong with you?"

"I'm trying to eat and you seem to have a problem with that."

"Hey now, you were the one that was harassing me yesterday. I'm just trying to be nice, don't do me any favors."

"I have literally never seen you before in my life." He put the burger back down for the third time, actually dropping it on the tray and splattering ketchup and bits of lettuce everywhere.

"Are you kidding me? You followed me around like a little puppy dog yesterday, blabbering on about our 'connection' and 'profound bound'."

"Sure," he snorted. "Look, I'm not here to be the focus of your weird gay fantasies."

The Dean that didn't have a criminal record looming over his head would have punched Castiel out and would have kept hitting him 'til someone forcibly pulled him off. The Dean that was locked in a mental institution had slightly better control and would have been perfectly happy flipping Castiel's tray over into his lap and walking away smiling. He was lucky Meg showed up when she did, because Castiel didn't look like the kind of guy that could take a joke. "Hey boys, trouble in paradise?"

"Meg," Castiel warned, pulling the tray closer to himself and laying an arm between her and the tray, "this is my food. Missouri makes it for me, not you."

"Come on Jimmy, didn't they teach you to share in kindergarten?" She reached over and snatched a fry away before he could stop her.

"What– Jimmy? I thought your name was Castiel."

"Do I look like Castiel?" he grumbled, like they weren't obviously the same person even down to the tiny scar on the side of their neck. Dean was about to point that out when someone coughed beside them. They all turned to find Dr. Hill standing behind them holding her stupid clipboard and pushing her stupid glasses up higher on her nose.

"Mr. Novak, you're late for your appointment."

"Sorry, _someone_ distracted me," he muttered, shooting a glare at Dean, who just rolled his eyes.

"It's fine, you can bring your lunch into my office but I have a tight schedule so we'll have to have a short session today."

"Yeah, okay, I'm coming." Cas– _Jimmy_ picked his tray up and began to follow the doctor out into the rec room. He paused by Dean and glanced down at him, shifting from foot to foot before lowering his voice down to a whisper and leaning in close to Dean. "Don't uh, don't sleep with Meg while I'm gone."

"I wasn't planning on it." He glanced over at Meg who didn't appear to be listening to them.

"Nobody_ plans_ to sleep with Meg," Jimmy rolled his eyes and continued walking out of the room.

"What was that all about?" Dean asked, turning to Meg who laughed and stood up. She walked over to the rec room, far enough behind that she didn't have to worry about running into Jimmy again.

"You ever seen Identity? Secret Window? Cybil?"

"Identity had that Cusack guy in it right?"

"Well Cassie's head is like motel six, full of sketchy people who want nothing to do with each other." Meg flopped down on one of the couches and grabbed the remote, changing the channel despite the objections of every one else around the television. "Jimmy doesn't come out much, you're lucky you got to see him."

"So is it just the two of them?"

"No, more like six? It changes. Sometimes they disappear, sometimes new ones show up."

"What are the other ones like?"

"Oh, I'm sure you'll meet them soon," she grinned.

%^#$%^

Dean sat down in one of plastic lawn chairs on the balcony, listening to the zip of cars on the highway. It almost seemed nice — there were flower beds along the edges of the building, even a small tree in the center, chairs and tables and a few picnic tables. If it weren't for the ten foot high fence with barb wire running around the top, it would have almost looked like an apartment balcony. Dean wondered how many people tried to kill themselves before they had the fences installed.

"So I uh, was kind of a dick earlier," came a voice from behind him. Dean leaned back in his chair and saw Jimmy standing there, looking bashfully at the ground. Dean softly kicked the chair next to him, inviting Jimmy to sit down, and went back to looking at the cars that zipped by. "It's just, I don't get to come out much and I was starving. Castiel always forgets to eat."

"It's cool." Jimmy had an obvious ketchup stain on his shirt, which was weird since Dean couldn't picture Castiel looking any other way then shiny clean. "What's…What's it like?"

"What's it like having to share a body with crazy people?"

"Sorry, that's personal, I shouldn't have–"

"No, it's fine, I'm used to it." Jimmy shifted in his chair and looked up at the sky, mapping out the clouds that were there. "It's not so bad I guess. I mean, Castiel's in charge most of the time. It's kind of like you just fall asleep and then wake up having no idea what's happened while you were out. I've never actually talked to Castiel but he knows I'm here, he just says I'm a vessel. I think I'm the only one that knows there are several of us, but that's 'cause everyone else is living in their own little fantasy world. I'm the only one that knows this is real life and there's no such thing as demons or angels."

"So is it like a genetic thing?"

"No." Jimmy seemed to tense and Dean didn't want to push him, but curiosity got the best of him and he continued his interrogation.

"So how'd you end up here, then?"

"Same as everyone else," he shrugged. "Daddy issues."

#%^#$%

"I start therapy tomorrow," Dean sighed into the phone, hunched over the large chunk of metal like it would prevent everyone in the room from listening in on his phone call.

"Any sexy nurses gonna attend to you?" Sam joked.

"Damn, there aren't _any_ nurses here – hell, there are barely any doctors. Least the other patients haven't gone Hannibal Lector on me yet."

"Glad to know you're making friends."

"Yeah, well, how's Bobby doing with my baby?"

"He just put a new windshield in."

They talked for a few more minutes until the phone beeped and told him to insert another quarter. Sam told him Jess was doing well but couldn't talk on the phone because she was out, and even though Dean knew it was a lie, he didn't call him out on it. He hung up and walked back to his room.

It was quiet — most people were asleep already. Only the soft hum of music drifted down the hall. Dean had survived his first full day, but he felt in his gut that tomorrow would be when his troubles began.

**Dr. Crowley's patient notes: **Novak

**Personality 5- **Jimmy

**First Appearance: **-

**Comorbid disorders: **- Depression

**Personality Description: **Jimmy is part of Novak's original 'trinity' of personalities, one of the oldest and the only aware of his disorder and admittance to Warner's Hospital. However, as far as I can observe, his only function in Novak's mind is to sustain life: eating, bathing, sleeping, etc. seem to be the only times Jimmy becomes in charge of the body. Despite being one of the oldest identities he was one of the last to 'reveal' himself to the doctors and other patients. He has a friendly relationship with the cook but will usually take his food back to his room and disappear soon after he finishes eating, the exception being when the identity of Castiel is for some reason unable to take control of Novak's body [see attached notes for 1994 - 2002, June 2007, January 2008, 'Castiel's Christmas/Easter disappearances'] in which case Jimmy usually becomes the dominant personality. Perhaps Jimmy views Castiel as a threat? **Update '10** Castiel seems to be protecting Jimmy from something, maybe the other personalities? **Update '11** View attached notes for analysis of Jimmy's relationship with the other personalities.


	3. Chapter 3

There was a definite possibility that Dr. Hill had left him to 'get settled' so he'd be so incredibly bored that therapy would suddenly seem like a God send. Dean had other ideas though. He might be stuck in the hospital, but they couldn't force him to talk to anyone, including his 'therapist.' Staying locked up in his room seemed like a much better option — he'd already met two other patients (three if you count Jimmy) and that was enough, because frankly, they seemed like the most normal people there, and that didn't bode well for what the other patients would be like.

A sharp knock on his door forced Dean to get up from his bed. There was probably some stupid penalty for skipping a session and that was the last thing Dean needed right now. He opened the door and was greeted with a plate of bacon and eggs alongside a glass of orange juice. "You missed breakfast."

Castiel? Jimmy? Someone stood at the doorway with a tray in one hand and a clipboard in the other. "Uh, yeah, thanks…"

"Mr. Novak, but I suppose you can call me Emmanuel." He smiled, holding up the clipboard. "I'm your lead physician."

"Are you now?" Dean was too hungry to bother telling him he was just a whack-job with a white coat. Emmanuel walked into Dean's room without being invited — none of Castiel's alters understood basic manners, it seemed, but he brought food so Dean let it go. He set the tray down on the bed and sat down beside it while Emmanuel pulled a chair up. "It standard practice to hold therapy sessions in a patient's bed room?"

"I thought you might be more comfortable here." Dean shrugged and took a bite of his eggs. They were cold, but Dean supposed it was his own fault for not getting breakfast on time. Emmanuel flipped through the pages on his clipboard, writing something down every now and then, before speaking. "So you've been diagnosed with PTSD."

"That's what they tell me."

"And your symptoms started after you came home from Afghanistan."

"Yeah…" Dean dropped his fork back on the plate and eyed the 'doctor' suspiciously.

"And you were placed here by a judge's order after you assaulted a man and put him in the hospital."

"You– you have my actual file?"

"Of course, I'm your doctor."

"Where the hell did you get that?" Dean jumped to feet his but Emmanuel remained calmly sitting in his chair.

"My office."

"You don't have an office, you're a damn mental patient!"

"Please calm down Dean, there's no need to get upset."

"Those are supposed to be confidential," he seethed, grabbing at the clipboard, but Emmanuel kept a firm hold on it and tugged it back.

"I assure you, no one but me has looked at your file."

"Give it to me, you damn freak."

"I'm sensing quite a bit of misplaced anger. I think you should sit down and we can talk about it."

"Emmi! You give those files back right now!" a girl huffed from Dean's doorway.

"Melissa, there will be plenty of time for your session after I'm done with Dean. And please only refer to me as Emmanuel or Dr. Novak – I'm your psychiatrist, not your friend."

"I get paid sixty cents an hour to deliver these files, and it sucks but I need the money, so you will not ruin this for me!" She stormed into the room and grabbed hold of the clipboard. Now all three of them held on to it, wrestling for the board, tugging and pulling and yelling at each other.

"Mr. Winchester you're late for your…appointment…" The trio froze when Dr. Hills voice sounded from the hall. They looked up to find her standing outside the room, not very happy at the scene before her. "What's going on?"

While the other two were frozen in surprise, Melissa took the opportunity to yank the board away and rush over to Dr. Hill. "I was just bringing you Dean's file."

Dr. Hill took the file but left the clipboard in Melissa hands. She looked over at Emmanuel like she suspected he had probably taken the file but remained silent. She motioned for Dean to follow her as she turned and left. He took a moment to properly stress what he would do to the other two if he got back and they were still there before following her out. They walked down the stairs and through the hall, arriving at an office door with _Hill_ painted on in bold black letters. The room had one of those tacky couches that people lied on and cried about how hard their lives were, but Dean ignored it, sitting down in one of the chairs instead as Dr. Hill sat behind her desk.

"So, let's talk about why you're here."

"Why? You know what happened, I don't see the point in doing your analyzing crap."

"I'm sure it would be nice to tell your side of the story."

"My side? You mean how I stopped a guy from beating his wife and ended up in a psych ward?"

"Well according to Mrs…" She flipped through the pages in his file, "Kunar, she got into a minor argument with her husband in the parking lot by your work. When she stormed off to the car she tripped and her husband grabbed her arm to steady her, at which point you attacked him."

"She's lying. You're a doctor you've never heard of Battered Wife Syndrome?"

"It took three men to pull you off Mr. Kunar." She jotted down something on the last page then looked back up at Dean. "He was only just released from the hospital."

Dean swallowed back his instinctive answer, because it wouldn't have been nice, and stared out the window. He just wanted everything to go away. He wanted to wake up tomorrow and find himself back in his shitty apartment.

"I'm not going to force you to talk about anything you don't want to. You're welcome to leave this room anytime you want, but I can't sign your release papers until we work through your issues."

Dean chose to leave instead and Dr. Hill didn't try to stop him. He bee-lined it straight to his room, ignoring anyone he met along the way. And of course, because Dean could never catch a break, Emmanuel was still in his room looking out his tiny window. "I thought I told you to leave."

"Dean," was all he said, his voice gruff and serious. He turned just enough to look over at Dean as he fell onto his bed.

"Castiel, hey man," he sighed, rubbing a hand over his tired eyes. At least it was someone he knew and not a personality that ended up being a serial killer. "You need something?"

"I was only making sure you were handling the situation well."

"What situation?"

"Being trapped in hell can be stressful on a human soul, many have already succumb."

"Yeah, those demons you were talking about, right?"

"They can't be trusted. You must be careful around them." Castiel walked over to Dean's bed but his eyes still lingered on the sunny window. "It's unusual, though, that you imagine hell like this. Most people would envision a fiery pit instead."

"A fiery pit doesn't sound too bad right about now."

**Dr. Crowley's patient notes: **Novak

**Personality 4-** Emmanuel.

**First Appearance**: 2002

**Comorbid disorders:** -

**Personality Description**: Emmanuel manifested to deal with Novak being admitted to Warner's Hospital; he is convinced he is one of the doctors instead of a patient. His appearance is rare amongst people who are aware that he is not a doctor, appearing instead to new patients and attempting to hold therapy sessions with them. I have to pin point the specific triggers that cause him to take control and even Jimmy seems to not know much about him.


	4. Chapter 4

"Ya know, there was this one time when I was trapped in that _hellhole_ of a desert, it was like seven-hundred degrees and we got ambushed. Taking fire from all sides, your friends getting shot right beside you and any second you could be next, choking on your own blood and having your life drain out of you. That was a freaking cake walk compared to this place."

Dean sunk deeper into his chair, other patients sitting in a circle around him, all eyes on him as he huffed out his monologue. Beside him, Castiel nodded, as if congratulating him on tricking the others into thinking he believed the whole 'this is totally an innocent asylum and not the deepest pit of hell' thing. The guy on the other side of him, Chuck, had his wide unblinking eyes glued on him, his breath shaky and hoarse and it made Dean ridiculously uncomfortable.

Dr. Hill, for her credit, didn't miss a beat, smiling a "Thank you for sharing Dean" before writing on that damn clipboard again. One day Dean was going to rip it out of her cheaply manicured hands and read what she'd been writing about him. "Meg, do you have anything you'd like to say?"

"I think you're a shitty doctor."

"It would be much more helpful if we could focus on matters related to your treatment."

"You know, we all think you had Crowley fired because you wanted his job."

"R-Ruby said that y-you had him dragged out of his c-c-c–" Chuck's tongued stuttered on the sound and everyone waited patiently for him to finish until Chuck gave up, blushed, and looked away.

"I'm going to increase you're Zyprexa dosage," Dr. Hill said, fishing out a prescription pad from her pocket and jotting something down before ripping a sheet loose and handing it to Chuck. "And we are not going to talk about Dr. Crowley. We have group so you can work through your feelings in a safe place."

"Well I _feel _like it's inappropriate that Chuck keeps sneaking into Becky's room at night." Meg leaned forward in her chair and winked at Chuck, who paled and started stuttering incoherently again. Dean almost wanted to congratulate the guy for getting a girl — Dean wouldn't have thought he had it in him.

"Two adults forming a loving and consensual relationship is something everyone in this room should strive towards."

Dean was beginning to think that every word that came out of the good doctor's mouth had been carefully memorized out of a textbook.

"Mm, yeah, I could get into that," Meg grinned and looked over at Dean or maybe Castiel, he wasn't sure, but she looked downright bloodthirsty.

"Dean," Castiel whispered leaning in closer so only he could hear, "under no circumstances should you sleep with Meg."

"Yeah, I got that," he muttered back.

"I have something I'd like to talk about!" Melissa raised her hand high like an elementary school student wanting to answer a question.

"Yes, go ahead." Dr. Hill flipped several pages over to Melissa's file.

"Tell Castiel he's being petty and can't avoid eye contact with me forever."

"Doctor, please inform that _thing _that I don't associate with her kind," Castiel answered before Dr. Hill could respond, turning away from Melissa like even facing her was beneath him.

"Castiel, have you ever associated with anyone, ever?" Meg asked, her voice dropping several octaves to make sure everyone got the lewd meaning behind it.

Dr. Hill took her glasses off and rubbed her eyes. "Group is over," she sighed. "You can all go have an early lunch."

Dean was the first one out the door, not even bothering to wait for Castiel, and the 'angel' didn't catch up to him until he'd planted himself on the lumpy couch in the rec room. Castiel sat down just as Dean switched the T.V. over to the football game. It was grainy and the sound was crap, but as long as he could see the colour of the jerseys he could follow the plays.

"You need to sleep." Castiel reached for the remote on the table but Dean grabbed it away and held it out of Castiel's reach.

"Not now, the game's on."

"Dean, that is not a current game, it's only your memory replaying the game to further the delusion of this being a hospital and not perdition."

"And you can't let me have thirty minutes of relaxation before some horned guy in tights shows up with a pitchfork?" Castiel tilted his head, probably unsure as to why Dean was expecting a man in tights to show up. He turned to the television nonetheless, conceding to let Dean watch it, though he didn't seem to understand the universal rule of not talking during a game.

"You haven't been sleeping."

"'Course I have."

"For a short amount of time, two hours a night at most."

"How would you know?"

"I remain by your door through the night to ward off any demons that might try to get to you." Dean tried to keep looking at the television and not react to that incredibly disturbing statement but his head still slowly turned towards the man next to him. Castiel seemed to be able to sense Dean's discomfort and tried to lessen his worry by explaining, "Your safety is very important."

"That's kind of rape-y Cas." When Castiel's eyes suddenly narrowed and darkened, Dean thought he'd cross some invisible line by using the nickname. Castiel stood up and took a large step away from Dean, his lips tugged back into a sneer.

"If you're suggesting that I would ever lower myself to–" the words caught in his throat, choking on them like he couldn't bring himself to say something so disgusting. Dean jumped to his feet, an apology on the tip of his tongue, but Castiel stormed off before he could say anything.

The rest of group A slowly made their way into the rec room while the patients in group B slowly shuffled out to their session. Meg of course ended up sitting next to him on the couch, and by then Dean had given up watching what was left of the game. Meg offered to introduce him to the rest of the patients, saying that then he wouldn't have to wait around for Castiel to show up. He already sort of knew some of them: there was Chuck, the schizophrenic who was prone to stuttering, and they caught up with Becky, who was OCD and shared strong delusions with her boy toy. She told Dean about some of the people in group B, and if he ever came out of his room for meals he'd be able to talk to them. There was Ruby, who Meg said had a list of disorders longer then her arm but he only had to worry about the fact that she was a pathological liar.

"It's pretty slow around here, since a bunch of our 'regulars' have been released." She dropped a plate of macaroni and cheese in front of him and sat down on the other side of the table. "But don't worry, they'll be back."

&(&(^%

Everything was hot and loud. People were crying, his hands were wet, and when he looked down he saw them slick with blood. The image was enough to jolt him awake, sweaty and panting in the darkness of his tiny room. He gasped for air and wiped his hands on the thin blanket to rid them of the invisible blood. Dean swung his legs over the side of his bed, taking a second to catch his breath before he stood and went to the door. He twisted the door knob and yanked it open, turned and headed back to his bed. "Come on in, Cas."

He sat back down on his bed, resting his head against the wall and waited for Castiel to follow. Castiel stood awkwardly by the door before finally stepping inside. "You are having nightmares."

"Can people in Hell dream?" Castiel looked taken back by the question, like he'd never expected Dean to ever ask him about the specifics of Hell or any of the other delusions that floated around his head.

"…No, no they can't. It is most likely when the delusion wears thin and you glimpse the actual Hell," he said after a long while, leaning against the edge of Dean's dresser.

Dean took a second to think about that before shrugging. "So what's an angel of the Lord doing in hell anyways?"

"I'm searching for my Father."

"Daddy issues," Dean chuckled.

"What?" Castiel asked and Dean had to stop himself from mentioning Jimmy because he had no idea if Castiel knew his 'vessel' liked to come out and play every now and then.

"Nothing." Dean grabbed his shirt at the end of the bed and pulled it on, suddenly feeling nearly naked in front of the fully clothed Castiel. "Why would God be in Hell?"

"He's not, but the trail led me here so there must be something I need to find," he crossed his arms over his chest and nodded to himself. "Like you."

"Well don't I feel special."

"However, if I was only supposed to find you I would have been able to leave this place. Clearly there must be more to be done." Dean's eyes began to droop, though sleep was still far off – he was still too wired from the nightmare that tore him awake. "What would make one such as you end up in Hell?"

"The usual." He laced his fingers behind his head and stretched his sore legs out in front of him. Castiel gave him a hard look, probably trying to figure out what the 'usual' was. What could an angel possibly know about sin and all the dirty details of being human?

"Someone like you should not have ended up here. You must have made a deal, sold your soul to a demon."

Castiel didn't know how right he was.

%^#$^

Seven days. Seven days spent in the same six rooms. Seven days of crappy food and no booze. Seven days with a shitty television and board games full of missing pieces.

Five group sessions. Five group sessions where everyone complained about their shitty lives and imaginary problems. Five sessions that always ended in fights. Meg kept mixing Becky's crayons out of order. Chuck was stealing note books to write his stories in. Castiel kept throwing 'holy water' on the other patients.

Three therapy sessions spent mostly in silence, Dr. Hill urging him to talk and Dean making a snide remark and clamming up.

One trip to floor two – to the medical ward.

He woke up feeling like someone had taken a sledge hammer to the back of his head. A painful light blinded him when he opened his eyes, finding not his regular room but a strange place that was painted white from floor to ceiling.

"Did you sleep well?" Dean's head flopped over to the side and found Dr. Hill sitting in a plush chair at the end of the bed. A nicer chair than anything in his bedroom or the rec room, and while he was thinking about it, the bed he was in was a hundred times softer then the one they forced him to sleep in.

"What happened?" he groaned out. Even moving his neck sent ripples of pain through his body.

"You fainted." She opened a beige file, like she'd been able to tell how much he loathed the clipboard and thought this might be better. "You were walking back to your room and fainted, and in the fall you hit your head against the edge of a table."

"I want you to tell me something about myself that you didn't read in my file."

Dr. Hill closed the file and slipped her glasses off, folding them in her hands and giving Dean a long hard stare.

"You haven't been sleeping."

"Wow, looks like all those years at Harvard sure paid off. Can you explain my fear of flying too?"

"I believe you're suffering from nightmare disorder. It's common among people diagnosed with PTSD." She clicked her pen and scrawled something on her prescription pad. "I'll prescribe you with some sleeping medication for now; however, ideally, I'd like to be able to work through the nightmares with therapy."

"Damn doc, you're really pushing the limits of my insurance."

"Another doctor will be in shortly to give you a check up before you're released back upstairs. You can receive your first dose at the nine o'clock med time. You'll be drowsy in the morning so we can skip your one-on-one session, but I'll expect to see you in group."

%&$%^

"I could get in a lot of trouble doing this, you know." Melissa set the file down in her lap, staring at the brown door in front of her, _333 _in black numbers glued to the dark wood. She looked left and right down the hall to make sure she was alone.

"Start from the beginning." The door in front of her rattled a bit as someone on the other side leaned against it. "I want to know everything."

"My doctor says that I'll never be able to overcome my disorder if I continue to mindlessly follow other people with no thoughts towards consequences or my on personal wants."

"Melissa," the voice warned, the silent threat finding its way to her even with the thick wooden door between them.

"Right, from the beginning." She opened the file and lifted a sticky note from the first page, stamping it down on her shoe.

"_Dean Winchester, born January 24, 1979 in Lawrence, Kansas_."

She read out every page, one by one: the foot notes, the cross-references, everything. Melissa plucked out pictures of Sam and other next of kin, unfolded the newspaper clippings tucked in the back. Whoever was on the other side of the door snapped at her when she spoke too quickly, insisted she repeat important facts so it could commit it to memory. An entire life spread out in a dozen pages, happy memories and deep secrets, everything down to the tiniest detail.

"_…handling the transition well, has bonded with Mr. Novak and occasionally interacts with Ms. Masters as well. I am sure as time passes he will become more involved in both group and free time_."

"Interesting."

"Oh! And uh…" She plucked the sticky note off her shoe and held it close to read the tiny letters. "He's having trouble sleeping, so they're giving him sleep meds."

"When does he start?"

"Eight o'clock today." She pulled her shirt sleeve up to look at her Mickey Mouse watch. "About twenty minutes from now."

"Find him," the voice commanded. "Bring him here."

#$^$%

"Allergies?"

"No."

"Have you eaten in the last four hours?"

"Yes."

"And what did you eat?"

"Uh, everyone has the same–"

"Did you finish the meal?"

"Yeah." Dean rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, watching as the nurse behind the counter asked him pointless questions and checked off boxes on yet another goddamn clipboard.

"Here's your first dose." He handed Dean a small paper cup and a glass of water. "If you seem to be having an extreme reaction, talk to one of the doctors or me. It's normal for you to feel drowsy in the morning, but it should go away after the first few days. I'd recommend being ready for bed in thirty minutes at the most."

"Sure." Dean swallowed back the yellow pills, his throat stinging a bit from the size of them but anything was worth an entire night of being nightmare-free. He walked down the hall and opened the door to the stairway, slowly forcing himself up the steps. It should have been way too early to go bed, but after a week where the only sleep he had gotten had been after slamming his head against a table, he didn't really care.

He reached the top and pushed the door open. It went smooth at first then shook as it hit something hard. "Son of a bitch!"

Dean stood back as the door was swung open the rest of the way to reveal Melissa, gripping the edge of the door with one hand and holding her bloody nose with the other. "Shit, are you okay?" Dean cringed.

"No!" she snapped, looking at her bloody finger tips. She glared up at him before it suddenly snapped off her face and an obviously forced smile replaced it. "I'll live though. I was looking for you! Castiel wanted to talk to you."

"I need to get back to my room." It seemed like a dick move to slam a door in someone's face then refuse their request, but he could already feel the slight twinge of a buzz and he knew there was no way he was making it thirty minutes before he passed out.

"He said it was important." She took a step back and pointed down the hall. "Room _333_, he said it would only take a minute."

Dean glanced down the hall and back to the blood stained face of Melissa, who had wide brown puppy eyes trying to get what she wanted. They reminded him of Sam's, the way his eyes always watered slightly when he was denied something, and neither Dean nor his parents could ever say no to him. "Yeah, fine, I can do that."

Melissa grinned before she pushed past him and went down the stairs — lucky sonofabitch didn't have an 8:30 bedtime. Dean walked down the hall, clenching his fingers tighter and tighter as he started to loose feeling in them. He felt like a damn lightweight against the power of those pills. He reached the door, unsure if he was supposed to knock or just barge in, before deciding that since Cas would never knock, why should he? The room was dark, a blanket taped to the window, and at first glance it looked empty, no one in the chair or on the bed. Dean stepped in and saw the flicker of movement by the floor near the bed. It took his eyes a few seconds to adjust to the darkness, and he moved towards the dull light of pale skin and grinning teeth.

"I've been expecting you." Dean could only barely see an outline of the man, who at this point Dean had guessed was not Castiel, lying on the floor clad in only black that made his usually flawless skin look sickly pale. The yellow pages of a book stood out against the blackness of the room, the man's fingers lingering against the faint words. "Have you ever read Faust?"

"Who are you?" Dean mumbled, his lips moving slower then his words, hitting minute eleven since he'd swallowed the pills and his cheeks had become uncomfortably numb.

"_Think'st thou that I, who saw the face of God, and tasted the eternal joys of heaven, am not tormented with ten thousand hells in being deprived of everlasting bliss?_" he recited, flicking the page over and dragging a slender finger along the words as he read. He looked up at Dean, the tiniest hint of a smile tugging at his lips and Dean was amazed at the difference in eye colour from Castiel — still blue, but darker, nearly black with a spark behind them that almost made Dean want to turn and book it out of the room. "You're Dean, correct?"

"Uh, yeah." Dean grabbed the edge of the chair next to him, steadying himself with it when he felt his knees weaken. He twisted his head back towards the door, thinking of how he needed to make an excuse to leave before he passed out on the floor. He turned back to see the man standing in front of him and if Dean had any doubts that it wasn't Castiel they were tossed out the window when he saw the grin on the other man's face. Sinister and mischievous, like a demonic child as he planned to toss his mother down the stairs. "Who are you?"

"Leviathan." He took a step towards Dean, who had to let go of the chair and move back or else Leviathan would have been pressed against him. "You can call us Leviathan," he repeated, matching Dean step for step in his retreat till he felt his back hit the wall. Leviathan's hands snaked up and wrapped around the collar of Dean's shirt, his breath hot on Dean's cheek.

"I need to get back to my room, I uh…"

"I know." Leviathan's lips hovered an inch from Dean's but the fog that seeped into Dean's mind prevented him from freaking out and pushing him away. "We get so lonely here. It's so cold. He just locked us up and never visits, but now we have you."

"What?" Den breathed out, unable to follow what the other man was saying. He vaguely felt the grip on his shirt tighten before the world started spinning, and suddenly he was sprawled across the bed, staring up at the ceiling. The bed dipped when Leviathan crawled on, pulling Dean into place and moving on top of him, straddling his waist and running his thumb along his cheek.

"I need…I need to…"

"Shhh, I know what you need," Leviathan whispered, brushing his lips against Dean's before nudging his head to the side to get access to his neck. Dean felt teeth bite into his neck, the pain dulled by the haze of drugs He tried to arch away but his whole body felt heavy.

"Cas," he gasped out when he felt hands raise his shirt up.

"Leviathan," the man corrected. The mouth at Dean's neck disappeared and soon he felt the wet slid of tongue on his chest.

"Mm, Castiel," he moaned when Leviathan flicked his tongue over Dean's nipple.

"It's Leviathan," he growled before leaning down and taking the nipple between his lips and gently sucking.

"I…damn…Cas."

The heat against him disappeared as Leviathan pulled away. Dean's head instantly flopped to the side, the hands on him having been the only things keeping him from the pull of sleep, and with them gone it was hard to resist. He heard a harsh slap but didn't feel it, though his head was suddenly on the other side of the pillow. Leviathan's hands gripped both sides of Dean's face, pulling him up slightly to keep him from passing out.

"Would it be cliché if I told you to remember my name because you'll be screaming it later?" He didn't wait for a response before he crushed his lips to Dean's and grinded his hips down into the other man's. He let Dean's head fall back on the pillow, his hands slithering down his chest to find Dean's belt.

"Lev...Lev..." Dean groaned, trying desperately to follow orders, to keep those cold hands on his skin, but the name just wouldn't force itself out. He felt the tug of his belt as Leviathan pulled it away and flicked the button of his jeans open. Nails grated down Dean's stomach, leaving tiny trails of blood behind, before they were replaced with the softness of finger tips sliding into his boxers. "I…Levi…Oh God."

"Yes?" The body above him stilled and Dean managed to open his eyes slightly when he heard the voice, deep and gruff like Castiel but cold like Leviathan.

"I…what?" He tried to focus, desperate for either sleep or release.

"You prayed for me, what do you require?" The voice was annoyed and apparently they were going to act like the man didn't still have his hand down Dean's pants. "I am very busy, is this important?"

"Levia…" His voice ebbed away and he started to drift off, oblivious to the world around him, to the man on top of him trying to pull answers out of him. All he had now was the promise of a dreamless sleep and the hope that he'd wake up with all his clothes on.

**Dr. Crowley's patient notes: **Novak

**Personality 1- **Leviathan

**First Appearance: **-

**Comorbid disorders: **Religious delusions, Borderline Personality Disorder. Note: Leviathan should never be left alone with anyone, pairs _at minimum_ should be used when dealing with him.

**Personality Description: **[See attached notes for description of Leviathan's behavior before admittance into hospital]Leviathan was the personality in charge when Novak was admitted. Leviathan was one of the original personalities and was created to deal with the abuse suffered as a child. Leviathan is prone to violence — he is highly manipulative and despite a care free demeanor will snap to anger if something upsets him. Several other patients were injured when he first came here and he refused to relinquish control over Novak's body. The 'God' personality was created to control Leviathan and 'locked him away in purgatory'. Leviathan is now prevented from leaving his bedroom and any attempt at doing so results in 'God' taking over. He seems to be mildly aware he was not born into Novak's body, though I am not sure if this is an act or not. Leviathan seems to know a lot more then he lets on but the conditions required for him to take over are so precise it is difficult to talk to him.


	5. Chapter 5

Dean had been awake ten minutes and was completely incapable of moving. His entire body felt like jelly. Eventually he found the strength to run his hands over his hips, finding his pants on though he couldn't really remember why he needed to make sure his pants were on.

"Dean, can you hear me?"

He only groaned in response but managed to crack one of his eyes open. Castiel (and he was sure it was Castiel from that baggy trench coat he was wearing) was standing at the foot of his bed. Expect, Dean realized, it wasn't actually his bed.

Suddenly the fog in his brain broke enough for him to remember parts of last night. White teeth, cold skin, someone quoting Shakespeare or some shit and it was enough to snap Dean out of the haze the drugs had left behind.

"I told you, you needed to sleep more," Castiel said. "Hell is starting to take a stronger hold on you."

"Leviathan," Dean blurted out and instantly shut his mouth. The other patients had all warned him not to threaten Castiel's delusions, that it never ended well.

"Leviathan…" Castiel's eyes darkened for a fraction of a second before he straightened and the blank expression slotted itself back across his face. "You've seen a leviathan?"

"You…you know about him?"

"Of course, though I can't imagine how you would have come across a large sea serpent."

"Sea serpent?"

"Yes." Castiel's head tilted to the left looking at Dean in a way that made him feel incredibly stupid. He had to hand it to Cas though, if you're going to be crazy you better be able to stick to your delusions. "Why are you in my bed?"

"Oh, well, I uh–" Dean racked his brain for a logical response. "Demons."

Castiel nodded in understanding, finding the answer acceptable and headed for the door without any further question. Dean took that as his cue to follow. His head still ached a bit, but he ignored it — he had to get out of that room as fast as possible.

They walked down to the rec room and when he saw the lack of people around for lunch, Dean remembered that it was the day visitors came. Dean smiled at the thought. He'd been missing his brother like crazy and needed to talk to someone who was, well, _not_ crazy.

"Mr. Novak," someone spoke behind the two men. They turned and saw a woman holding a clipboard — goddamn, did everyone here get a clipboard? — looking expectantly at Castiel. "Gabriel's here."

Castiel glanced over at Dean and quietly whispered, "She is a psychic, she can connect between Hell and the land of the living."

"Awesome." Dean wondered if there was anyone in the building that was just a normal person, not an angel or demon, just someone unlucky enough to be stuck here like Dean.

"Thank you Pamela," he nodded, stepping away from Dean and walking back into the hall.

Pamela looked Dean up and down in a way that wasn't entirely appropriate for a professional before calling to Castiel to wait for her. She smiled flirtatiously. "You're Dean, right?"

"The one and only."

"Your brother called, wanted you to call him back whenever you got the chance."

Dean's heart sank all the way to the floor. Sam wasn't downstairs waiting for him — which could only mean that his brother had bailed on him at the last minute.

"Yeah, I can do that." Pam gave him a sympathetic look. Absent family members were probably nothing new around here. She handed him a quarter, telling him the call was on the house and walked away to go join Castiel. He really didn't want to talk to his brother right now, didn't want to hear his excuses and lies, but he found himself walking over to the pay phones anyway.

He shoved the quarter in, and with every ring the phone made Dean considered hanging up, but Sam answered before he could. "Winchester residence."

"Don't answer the phone like a ten year old, Sammy."

"Sammy is a name for a ten year old," Sam countered, and then took a shaky breath and continued. "Dean–"

"You're not coming," Dean interrupted. "I know."

"It's just, Jess is sick," Sam said a little too quickly. "And with the baby, I can't…"

"It's fine," Dean said, but his fingers tightened on the phone. "I understand."

"Next week," Sam promised. "Next week we'll– Jess shush, I'm handling this."

"Give me the phone," a muffled voice called from the other end.

"No, I'm talking to Dean." There was a shuffling sound as Sam and Jess wrestled for the phone. Dean rolled his eyes and looked around the nearly empty room as he waited for one of them to get a hold of it. He saw Castiel come back through the swinging doors, then corrected himself with _Jimmy _when the man made eye contact with him and blushed before he quickly went to the kitchen. Dean got the sickening feeling that Jimmy might have known what went on with Dean last night, and wasn't that just icing on the cake.

"Dean!" Jess breathed tiredly on the other end of the phone, and Dean immediately felt bad when she did genuinely sound sick. "I'm sorry we're not there, I told Sam to go alone but you know how he is."

"I know," Dean sighed, rubbing his eyes tiredly. "It's fine, really."

"We'll have lunch next week," she offered and Dean could hear the smile in her voice despite the crack the illness made in her throat.

"I don't think I'll have a pass by then," Dean said, remembering the list of passes this place had — hour pass, day pass, overnight pass, weekend pass — and the crazy good behavior you had to have before they gave you one.

"Oh…well I'll bake you something, then."

"It's okay Jess, don't fuss over me."

"The apple tree in the backyard is almost ripe, I could bring pie."

"Well I've never been able to say no to pie," Dean chuckled, feeling the stress melt away when she put the phone on speaker and he talked to them both. Jess had made sure that Dean didn't think they were purposefully bailing on him, which made Dean feel a bit less like a freak. They said goodbye and Dean held on the phone a little too long after they hung up before he placed it back on the hook.

"I bet she misses you." Dean turned around to find a blond man standing behind him, sucking on a lollipop and one eyebrow raised.

"What?"

"Your girlfriend," the man clarified, and when he saw the confused look on Dean's face he tried again. "Or wife maybe?"

"Oh," Dean said as he clued in. "No, no, Jess is my sister-in-law." Dean nearly explained that even if she wasn't married to his brother Jessica was a weird mix of cute little sister and helicopter mom and there was no way Dean would ever hit that in a million years. But then he realized he didn't need to explain anything to the random guy that was listening in on his phone calls. "Who the hell are you?"

"Gabriel."

"Oh, you're, uh, the guy that came to see Cas, right?"

"Cas?" Gabriel momentarily lost his bemused look, shock and something dark replacing it before the smile crept back. "Wow, I wasn't really expecting Castiel."

"Huh?"

"Well, sometime after you passed out in my brother's bed, Jimmy called me." Dean was pretty sure he'd lost all colour in his face and the sight seemed to amuse Gabriel even more. "Look, I don't really need any details."

"I–" Dean started, but stopped when Gabriel reached into his jacket and pulled out a small black cardboard box.

"These are for Leviathan," Gabriel shoved the box at Dean and he had just enough time to see it was a package of flavored condoms before Gabriel shoved another box into his hands, a yellow box of regular condoms. "That's for everyone else."

"I don't– What– Uh–" Dean stuttered, completely caught off guard by the conversation.

"Don't bother using the grape ones." Gabriel looked down at the black box with a thoughtful expression. "He hates those. I tried to find one that was all cherry but all they had was mixed. I don't know what Castiel likes though…"

"I'm not sleeping with Cas," Dean chocked out before quickly adding, "I'm not sleeping with any of them."

"I know. If it's one thing I can count on it's Castiel being smart enough to keep it in his pants." Gabriel bit down on his lollipop, shattering it from the stick. "Seriously though, use those, Lev won't be thrilled about it but you can't just go coming in somebody's mouth anytime you want."

"I don't want to come in anybody's mouth!" Dean said, loud enough that the few people in the room turned to look at the two men.

"Look kid, I'm gonna level with you. My brother has been here a _long_ time and depending on who's riding him, I don't even get to see him during visiting hours. So the only fun I ever get to have here is messing with the guy who's screwing him at the time."

"This is the most awkward conversation I've ever had," Dean said, unsure of what else to do. It's hard to defend yourself when you're holding a box of condoms in each hand.

"Just wear a condom," Gabriel shrugged and left Dean standing there, frozen in place, staring down at the two boxes. He shoved them into his pockets, not caring that they were big and bulky because he just wanted to get the hell out of there. He was right about to turn and leave when he caught sight of a certain girl in an old raggedy red sweater. He bee-lined straight to the doors, grabbing hold of the girl's arm along the way and pulling her with him.

"What the hell?" Dean hissed, pulling Melissa back out through the doors.

"Yeah, I figured you'd be kinda mad about last night…" She scratched the back of her neck and looked away in fake embarrassment.

"So you did know that that wasn't Castiel."

"Oh yeah, rule of thumb is that if the door's closed, Leviathan's lurking about."

"So you just lured a drugged up mental patient into a room with a psychopath? You thought that would be a good idea?"

"Well since Leviathan's an alter and not an actual human being, I think he'd technically be a sociopath but I'm not a doctor so I can't–"

"Stop talking," he snapped. "I didn't rat you out when you lost my file and then you do this? What kind of thanks is that?"

Melissa gave him a hard look, brows drawn and a heavy frown. She stayed like that for a moment before her face melted away to a blank, almost disappointed, look. "I'm sorry, I'm trying really hard to feel some minor guilt but it doesn't seem to be working."

"You're a real bitch, you know that?"

"Look, that guy in there terrifies me. He's been locked in that room for nearly ten years, but one day he'll break out. And who do you think he'll go after, the girl that told him to screw off or the soldier boy he blew once upon a time?"

"Whoa! We never– He didn't–" Dean stuttered out.

"Really?" she asked, surprised. "But Leviathan is so…convincing."

"I'm straight," he blurted out, a little too quickly. "Like so straight, ridiculously straight–"

"Okay, I get it."

"I've been with women," he continued.

"Of course you have."

"…A lot of women." Dean knew he was overdoing it but he'd never had to prove he was straight to anyone before and this was the second time today he'd had to do it. After all, he was Dean Winchester. He shot guns and built classic cars and drank his whisky straight. Then again, throughout the whole conversation all he could think about was how not long ago he was spread out beneath Leviathan gasping and moaning, willing to say anything to keep those smooth, cold hands on him. Not to mention the two boxes of condoms he had in his pockets.

"I don't usually have this much trouble with Leviathan's boy toys."

"This happens…a lot?" The thought made Dean's stomach twist, knowing that it was Castiel's body and this thing in his head was using it to do God knows what. "I need to go find him."

Melissa said something as he walked away but Dean was too lost in his own world to hear it. He went through the rec room into the cafeteria and looked around for a messy mop of black hair. He saw Jimmy poking at his food, looking bored with the vase of flowers Gabriel must have given him earlier. When he sat down in front of him, Jimmy's eyes widened slightly but he didn't look up.

"So uh…"

"I really don't want to talk about it," Jimmy grumbled, shoving his food away.

"Look, I didn't–"

"I know," Jimmy's shoulders slumped and he dropped his head down into his hands. "I'm sorry. He's bad, he's so bad and I can't stop him. None of us can do anything about him."

"You didn't do anything," Dean tried to assure him when he heard a sob break out.

"I should have warned you, everyone else knows to keep the door open."

"Hey hey, listen," Dean reached over and gripped Jimmy's shoulder, trying to calm him down. It was a little messed up that this was (sort of) the man that attacked _Dean_ last night and he was comforting him. "It's cool, nothing happened."

Jimmy opened his fingers just enough for his blue eyes to peek out. He didn't look entirely convinced. "Really, nothing, I swear."

"Oh." Jimmy's hands dropped down to his lap and he looked a little embarrassed that he had almost just cried in front of Dean.

"Why don't we go put your, uh, flowers in your room."

"Gabriel gets them for Emmanuel," Jimmy gingerly wrapped his fingers around the faintly blue tinged glass. "He likes plants."

They walked back to room _333_, the very room Dean had vowed never to return to not ten minutes before. He watched Jimmy put the vase gently on the night stand by his bed, and Dean thought that even though he and Cas shared the same body, Jimmy looked so much smaller wrapped up in the trench coat. Dean realized Jimmy was a lot meeker then he'd originally thought. It must be tough, being the only normal person in one man's head. Jimmy pulled open the tiny drawer on the night stand and coughed nervously. "You can, um, put them in here."

Dean wasn't sure what Jimmy meant at first until it clicked and he took the condoms out of his pockets. "Oh, yeah, right…" he trailed off dropping the boxes into the drawer. "I honestly don't need these."

"He'll find a use for them," Jimmy shrugged and Dean suddenly felt extremely uncomfortable again.

"I'm just gonna go." Dean turned a little too quickly and his right foot wasn't quite as fast as his left. Before he had time to right his footing he was flying through the air, tumbling down to the floor. His forehead slammed against the carpet and he rolled unto his back, his elbow brushed against the door and he barely even registered the faint _click_ it made when it closed.

His eyes snapped open when he remembered Jimmy's words, _keep the door open_, and he pushed himself onto his elbows to look over at where Jimmy stood, his back to Dean. The man was perfectly still, and Dean nearly breathed a sigh of relief, until the man's body stiffened. He looked over his shoulder at Dean, a wide grin spread across his lips. "You came back."

"I was just leaving."

"So soon? We've missed you." Leviathan made it sound like he'd been gone weeks, not hours. "I'd like for you to stay."

"You know, you keep switching between 'we' and 'I'." Leviathan was walking towards Dean and he wasn't sure if he'd be able to make it out the door without the creepy grinning man getting to him first.

"Do we?" Leviathan raised an eyebrow, his grin a little too sweet, like he was trying to draw attention away from the wild glint in his dark eyes.

"Could you take the coat off?" He wasn't sure why it disturbed him so much that Leviathan was dressed up as Castiel. He brushed it off as it being easier for him to tell them all apart if they dressed differently.

"_And thus I clothe my naked villainy_," Leviathan laughed, shrugging off the beige fabric. "_With old odd ends stolen out of holy writ_," He tossed the coat aside and took another step towards Dean. He reached his hand up again tugging on his tie till it hung like a dark blue noose hanging around his neck. "_And seem a saint, when most I play the devil_."

"Why do you talk like that?" Leviathan held a hand out to Dean, who hesitated but eventually took it.

"We spend a lot of time reading." Leviathan seemed to sense the uneasiness coming off Dean, so he moved to lean against the door, effectively blocking any attempts Dean might have made to leave. "There isn't much to do in purgatory."

Leviathan shot him a lewd look that made Dean cross his arms over his chest in an attempt to cover up. Dean moved over to the flowers, ignoring the strange feeling he got when he got closer to the bed. He didn't have much experience when it came to multiple personalities but he thought maybe he could snap Emmanuel in to place.

"The flowers." He said dumbly because he had never once in his life learned a single thing about flowers. Dean realized turning his back on Leviathan was a mistake when he felt hot breath and a hard body suddenly behind him.

"You brought me flowers."

"Uh…"

"I'd hate to think I gave you the impression you had to sweet talk me into bed." Dean gulped when Leviathan ran his hands under Dean's shirt and up his chest. "We're more then willing."

"No, Gabriel–" Dean gasped, the air unexplainably knocked out of his lungs and without being completely sure how, he found himself with his back on the bed, Leviathan on top of him with his hands curled tightly in Dean's shirt.

"You've been talking to the angels," he hissed, tiny droplets of spit splattering on Dean's face.

"No, I wasn't." Dean placed a hand on Leviathan's arm, attempting to calm the raging monster. Leviathan's fist collided with Dean's jaw and he tasted the iron tang of his own blood, hearing the man above him growl.

"Angels are why I'm here, angels told _Him_ where to find me." Dean flinched when he heard something shatter, and for one horrifying second he thought it was his own bones until he felt water soak into his clothes. He flicked his eyes over to the broken vase and tried to sink deeper into the wet mattress when he saw the jagged glass gripped tightly in Leviathan's hand. His eyes were nearly black, his lips pulled back tightly in a sneer as he raised the glass high above his head.

Dean braced himself for the pain, silently begging _not the throat_. He had no time to remember that he was an ex-soldier, trained in hand-to-hand combat and that he could have easily flipped the smaller man off him. It had all happened so fast that the thought that he could die barely even crossed his mind and he was beyond lucky that the broken glass never reached his skin. Dean opened his eyes when the pain he was expecting never came.

Leviathan stared blankly into space, his hand still raised at shoulder height. His grip on Dean's shirt had weakened enough that Dean was able to pull away from him, sliding himself up onto his elbows. Leviathan barely budged with the movement.

"I think, perhaps, you do not realize the amount of effort it takes to bind a Leviathan."

Dean recognized the voice from the night before. The nameless man glared down at him, though not in an angry way — more like a parent catching a child misbehaving. "Why do you insist on riling him up?"

"Hey now, he's the one that went ape shit on me!"

"Of course he did," the man replied coolly, pushing off of Dean and walking over to the window. "He's a Leviathan, he was created to be as changing as the tides of the ocean."

_Great_, Dean thought, _another damn poet_. Dean climbed off the bed, choosing to stay a safe distance away from the stranger rather than heading straight for the door. "I don't suppose you'd be cool with dropping that?" He gestured to the glass still in the man's hand.

"If I wanted to kill you, I wouldn't need a weapon." The glass fell to the ground, breaking into two and Dean was briefly reminded that Emmanuel's flowers had probably been crushed to death.

"So you got a name?"

"I have many names."

"Yeah, I imagine you have about six of them," Dean snorted.

The man turned to look at Dean, his brows drawn in confusion which burned away to mild anger after a moment. "You should show me respect, boy."

"Boy? I'm like two inches taller than you."

"Don't let appearances fool you; I appear as whoever you'd like me to be."

"Sure, logically." It was too bad the other personalities couldn't talk to each other, then maybe they could understand how extremely difficult they all were.

"You don't sense who I am?" Dean shrugged. He'd have to ask Jimmy to draw him a map around Castiel's head next time, it would be a lot easier then guessing all the time. "I am the Lord, your God."

"No shit?"

"This is not a joke." He cleared the space between them in a few quick strides, standing straight in front of Dean like he expected him to be intimidated by his messy hair and disheveled clothing. "You should kneel before God."

Dean nearly told the man to go screw himself, but he figured he could go along with the guy's God complex since he'd saved his ass twice already. Dean took a step back before dropping to his knees, shoving his hands in his pockets just to make it clear he was doing this to be nice and not out of any kind of actual reverence. "It's Dean, by the way."

"I know. I know everything."

"'Course you do."

"You don't believe in me." He looked down on Dean's bored expression, his eyes narrowing in a way that was just off of Castiel's confused look. "It is normal for humans to have doubts."

Dean felt the weight of God's hand on his head, his nails a little too sharp for the touch to be gentle. "In time you'll learn. I am a patient god."

"I don't plan on being here all that long," Dean let out a nervous laugh, trying to downplay how uncomfortable he was being touched by the other man. The supposed god's hand slipped down Dean's jaw, his thumb running lightly beneath Dean's lip. "I feel like you're crossing a bunch of lines here."

The grip on Dean's jaw tightened just short of being painful and the other man growled. "I didn't give you permission to speak."

"Whoa, what happened to you being patient?"

"I told you to be quiet."

"Screw that." Dean leaned back out of God's grasp, glaring up at him with the same ferocity he was given. "Cas, this is getting kind of old, can you pop back in before this guy mouth rapes me?"

The same blank look spread across the god's face and his hand dropped away from Dean, who was silently saying Castiel's name over and over again in his head, hoping it might influence who took over the body. Blue eyes blinked rapidly and the harshness of the previous occupant melted away.

"Dean?" He almost sighed in relief when he heard the gruff voice.

"Hey, long time no see," Dean joked. Castiel looked over at his discarded coat and reached up to fix his tie, though it was still looser than was normal.

"Why are you on the floor?"

"Man, you wouldn't believe me if I told you."

**Dr. Crowley's patient notes: Novak**

**Personality 2- **'God'

**First Appearance: **2002

**Comorbid disorders: **

**Personality Description: **After Novak's admission to Warner, Leviathan was almost exclusively in control. However, due to his violent behavior towards himself and others as well as the harshness of treatment to calm these tendencies, his control became problematic. This alter refers to himself as God or Lord and on his first appearance claimed to have locked Leviathan away in purgatory (from that point on Leviathan has never appeared outside of his bedroom). God is fully aware of Leviathan and has mentioned both Castiel and Jimmy from time to time, although he does not realize they share a body. Castiel is aware of his existence but thinks he is a false idol and that he has never met him. Jimmy insists that treatment should not be given to merge personalities as Castiel is no longer able to handle Leviathan and God is now the sole force that can contain him. God will take control anytime Leviathan tries to leave room 333 or if strong negative emotions become too much for the other alters to handle. Occasionally just the mention of God will bring him out. He demands loyalty and needs almost constant validation or declarations of love. Generally he is not violent but makes other patients uncomfortable, as he can be very intimidating.


	6. Chapter 6

Dean was still groggy when he forced himself into Dr. Hill's office the next morning. The second dose of his new meds hadn't hit him quite as hard as the first, but it still made him feel weak. The doctor gave him a tight smile when she let him in, walking back to her desk and motioning for him to sit, which was a little pointless because he sat in the same chair every time. Dean hated one-on-one sessions; as bad as group was he could always just stay quiet while the others talked. Here he had to actually answer her stupid questions.

"Why don't we discuss some of the relationships in your life?" She clicked open her pen and held it against the paper, looking expectantly at Dean.

"That'll be a pretty short discussion." Dean had the vaguest urge to mention Leviathan, ask if he would have actually stabbed him if that God guy hadn't showed up. But he felt like that would probably cause a whole flood of questions that he didn't feel like answering.

"What's the longest relationship you've had?"

"I've known my mom since, gee, pretty much since the day I was born."

"Why don't we start with non-family relationships, have you had any of those?"

"Yeah, one."

"Tell me about them."

"Well, she's perfect, curvy on the outside and smooth on the inside–" Dean grinned.

"Let's only discuss the emotional aspects. Is she still in your life?"

"Oh yeah, Sam will probably bring her to come get me once you get around to letting me out."

"How did you two meet?"

"My dad had her first."

"Your…your father?" the doctor's glasses slipped down her nose as she leaned forward slightly in shock.

"Yeah, he gave her to me when he wanted a younger one. But you know, I treat her a lot better then he did – I take her with me wherever I go and I spoil her. Only the best for my baby."

"O-okay. And has it always been so easy? Have you ever had any problems?" she tried to keep an even look, despite the unusual remarks that only years of training kept her from reacting to.

"Everyone has problems. Like this one time, I got into this huge fight with Sammy. He was being a prissy little bitch and later that night I just snapped, picked up a crow bar and, well, you can probably guess the rest."

"You beat her with a crow bar?"

"It's not as bad as it sounds. I mean, she needed a whole knew windshield but the rest was just dents and chipped paint."

"This is a car? You're talking about a car?" she looked calmer at first, pleased she didn't have a wife beater sitting in front of her. Then the look melted into one of distain when she realized Dean was messing with her, slipping into his usual habit of not taking anything seriously. "You've been spending a lot of time with Mr. Novak."

"Yeah." Dean sat up straight, unsure where the conversation was going but knowing he wasn't going to like it.

"Do you know how long he's been a patient here?"

Dean remembered Gabriel's words to him the other day and repeated, "A long time."

"Ten years." Dean's eyes widened a little at the statement because _shit_ that was a long time, a lot longer then he had expected. "He's been here that long because he refuses to be treated – not one of the alters will accept any kind of treatment. Novak has locked himself up in a fantasy world, to the point where I'm not sure he could even survive outside this building."

"What does this have to do with me?"

"Where do you want to be when your brother's child is born? Do you want to be in the waiting room or here?" Dean's jaw clenched, feeling a tiny twinge of pain from the punch he'd received yesterday. Dr. Hill saw the way his fists clenched and stood up from her chair. "Just think about that. We're done for the day."

She opened the door for him, waiting patiently for him to leave and Dean realized that their sessions never lasted the full hour. That was fine by him, honestly, because that just meant he could have an early lunch. He expected Castiel to be waiting for him outside the office but the hall was empty. Jimmy was probably eating or maybe Emmanuel was getting someone to talk about their feelings. He checked both the rec room and the dinning room, but there was no sign of rumpled black hair.

"Meg, have you seen Cas?" Meg glanced up at him before looking back at the cards in her hand.

"Sorry, haven't seen him all morning." She tossed the three of hearts at Ruby. "Got any eights?'

"Nope, go fish." Ruby dropped her pair of threes. "Saw Jimmy not too long ago."

"He didn't ask about Jimmy," Meg smirked, picking a card off the top of the deck. "If he had asked about Jimmy I would have told him he's probably in his room crying like a little bitch."

"He might get all defensive though if you call his boyfriend a bitch."

"I didn't say he was a bitch, I just said he whined like one."

"Well in that case," Ruby slammed her last two cars on the table, "Yahtzee!"

"We're not playing Yahtzee."

"Oh."

"I am so sick of you two." Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes and left the two women to argue about card games. He was a little hesitant to go into Castiel's room again — it was like walking into the lion's den and bad things always happened in threes. Still, he wouldn't have minded a walkthrough of the house rules for Novak's Apartments, Inc. Dean figured that as long as he made sure he never went anywhere near the door he woudn't have to worry about any more crazy drama.

A large grey lump was curled up on the bed, a nice soft duvet in place of the thin blankets the hospital supplied. Dean took a cautious step inside the room, sure that any second the man on the bed was going to quote some shitty European classic before jumping out and biting him.

"Hey."

"Go away," a muffled voice groaned from beneath the covers, quick and soft. _Jimmy_.

"You okay?"

"I hate everything, I just want to be left alone." Dean sat down on the bed by Jimmy's feet and man curled himself tighter, shifting away from Dean. "I want Castiel."

"Can't you just phase out or something?"

"No, it doesn't work like that." Jimmy's voice was nearly a whimper. "He's disappeared again. That's not fair! I hate this body and I hate being here and Castiel can't just leave me alone."

"Castiel's gone?"

"Ruby sent him away. She told him some story about God and he went off to find him."

"He just up and disappeared?"

"He's an angel. He's been looking for God since…well, since before I was around." Jimmy paused. "This is just a bad time for him to leave."

"Why?"

"Don't freak out." Jimmy shuffled on the bed, rising up to sit, and the blanket slowly slipped away. Dean's eyes narrowed on the three red gashes along Jimmy's left cheek but they didn't stay there long, drifting to the busted lip and then to the faint purple of a bruise just under his right eye.

"What the hell?" Jimmy flinched at the question, his hand darting up to cover the wounds on his face, but stopped him with a hand wrapped around his wrist. The tips of Jimmy's fingers were bloody — the nails had been bitten down to stumps, the skin around it raw. "What happened?"

"I ran into a door knob." Jimmy tried to smile but the pain from his lip stopped his mouth from stretching into a full grin.

"Leviathan. He did this, didn't he?" Jimmy grimaced and Dean realized he had tightened his grip on Jimmy's wrist. He let go and after a few moments Jimmy nodded his head. "He hurt you."

"No," he whispered, shaking his head. "He hurt himself."

"Why?" Dean couldn't imagine what would make someone want to claw the skin off their face.

"I don't know," he shrugged. "Something must have upset him. I just woke up like this."

A sick feeling tightened around Dean's chest, knowing exactly what had upset the monster lurking in Castiel's head. It was only a small comfort that Castiel wasn't there to suffer for his mistake and then that thought made Dean feel even guiltier because Castiel probably could have handled it a lot better than Jimmy. "Is there anything I can do?"

"No, I'm just waiting for someone else to take over." He pulled the covers back over himself. "Don't worry about me, I'm just going to sleep and hope someone else wakes up."

Jimmy plopped back down on the bed, signaling the end of the conversation and Dean was more then happy to get the hell out of there. He went straight back to the rec room, back to the table where Meg and Ruby, and now Melissa, were playing cards. Grabbing a chair, he sat down beside Meg and knocked the cards out of her hands.

"Hey!"

"I need to ask you something." He looked over at the other two girls. "All of you."

"You could have just asked. What's got your panties all tied in a knot?"

"Theoretically," Dean paused, leaning in closer, like this was a police shake down or something, "if I wanted to talk to Leviathan–"

"You'd be insane," Melissa almost gasped. "Theoretically."

Dean ignored her and continued. "If I wanted to talk to him, out in the open, not cooped up in his room, how would I do that?"

The three women exchanged looks, silently trying to figure out if Dean was serious, and if he was, what the hell was wrong with him. Melissa was the first to speak up. "You can't, he–"

"Well," Meg interrupted, "there is one way."

"He'd have to be pretty desperate to try that," Ruby pointed out.

"He must really want to, though, if he's asking."

"You two going to clue me in?"

"You've met Leviathan a few times already, right?" Dean nodded. "And when you two are all warm and cozy in bed what's usually on his mind?"

Dean didn't blush, because he was thirty-three years old and blushing was something kids did, but the look on his face must have revealed something because Meg and Ruby exchanged a knowing look and grinned. "If you really need to talk to Levi, here's what you gotta do."

Castiel showed up a day and a half later, telling Dean he still hadn't found his Father but a demon had found him and marked up his face. Dean held back on his plan. He could have just waited in Castiel's room and closed the door, but that never seemed to go well. So he waited until he could get Castiel, or really any of the personalities, alone. Except for some reason, someone was always around. It took Dean nearly three days of waiting before he found Castiel standing alone in the hallway one morning. Dean knew never to expect Castiel to act normally, so though it wasn't all that unusual for Castiel to wait outside Dean's room, it was still a little weird to find him a few feet from someone's door.

It was really only a few steps between him and Castiel but it seemed so much longer to Dean. He had to keep reminding himself that this was important and that he'd much rather deal with Leviathan out in the open. When he finally stopped behind Castiel, he thought he might actually chicken out until the other man turned and Dean figured it was now or never. He wrapped his hands in Castiel's lapels and barely managed to mutter, "Sorry about this Cas," before he pushed him against the wall and slammed his lips against Castiel's.

Castiel's lips were dry and Dean could feel rough stubble against his chin, a sharp contrast to the smooth skin of a woman he was used to. Dean wasn't exactly an expert when it came to kissing men but he must have been doing something wrong because the man beneath him didn't move. Leviathan would have pulled him closer, Castiel would have pushed him away and it just didn't seem to be working the way he expected it to. Dean tried running his tongue over Castiel's bottom lip and dropped his hands down to his waist but still got nothing. A burn in his lungs told him he needed air, and if it hadn't worked yet, than it probably wasn't going to work at all.

He pulled away from Castiel, sucking in a breath, and waited for the 'angel' to freak out and punch him square in the jaw. But he just stared up at Dean with wide blue eyes, face twisted in confusion. "Uh, were there some re-writes I wasn't told about?"

Laughter burst out beside him, and Dean looked over into the room Castiel had been standing by. Ruby and Meg were bent over laughing and Meg had fallen off the bed. Chuck stood just by the door way, mouth open in shock and a stack of paper held loosely in his hands. Meg managed to push herself to her feet even as her chest spasmed in giggles. "I can't believe you actually did it!"

"Oh." The man in front of Dean smiled and Dean wanted to yell at him that he couldn't wear the stupid trench coat if he wasn't Castiel, that he needed to wear something else because Dean needed some way to tell them all apart. "Rachel put you up to this."

"Rachel? What the hell is going on?" Dean shot a glare over at Chuck, who gave a small squeal and the papers in his hand went flying to the ground.

The other man's grin widened for a second before it disappeared into something serious, blue eyes narrowed in annoyance. "Dean," the now-gruff voice said, "I have told you that Meg is not to be trusted."

"Cas?" The term 'flustered' didn't sound very manly, but Dean was pretty sure that's how he felt at the moment. "Is someone going to tell me what's going on?"

"Leviathan never comes outside." Meg leaned heavily on the doorframe, the last of her laughter fading. "I can't believe you just did that."

"It's not his fault," Not-Castiel shrugged, reaching into his pocket and pulling out a cell phone. "I'm irresistible."

He flashed a grin at Dean, leaning against the wall as his thumbs flew over the phone's keyboard. Ruby wedged herself between Meg and Chuck and pointed over to the blue eyed man. "Misha."

"Misha?"

"Yes?" he looked up from his phone. "You want a round two, Jensen?"

"Jensen?" Ruby reached down to the floor and picked up one of the papers that had fallen.

"That's you." She pointed to a line on the page. "Welcome to the cast."

"T-the doctors t-t-thought it might-t-t–"

"Mish is an actor," Meg cut Chuck off. "Chuck writes the stories, Misha acts them out. Doc says getting him to act like the other alters might ease the transition to merging back or some bullshit medical theory."

"And now Castiel's got himself a nice hunter to look out for." Ruby helped Chuck pick up the paper mess. "Saving people, hunting things–"

"The family business," Misha piped up, finally looking up from his cell. Dean ignored him as he read down the page he had in his hand, a story where he killed bad things and Castiel was an actual angel. Misha shoved his phone in front of Dean's face and he had to step back to see what he was being shown. "This is West."

The screen showed a toddler, blond hair and bright eyes and covered in tomato sauce. Faint white letters spread across the photo — a water mark, a photo found on the internet. "That's my son."

"Your…son?" Misha pulled the phone back, cradling it in his hands, and looked at the stolen photo fondly. Dean remembered that look. His mom used to look at him like that when he did something cute, and his dad looked like that when he brought Sammy home for the first time.

"Maybe one day I'll bring him to the set and you can meet him." Misha dropped his phone back into his pocket. "But right now we should really get back to filming."

Dean had a feeling it was going to be a very long day.

**Dr. Crowley's patient notes: **Novak

**Personality 6- **Misha

**First Appearance: **2002

**Comorbid disorders: **Erotomania

**Personality Description: **Misha originally referred to himself as Dmitri Tippens Krushnic but a few months after his appearance declared himself an actor and insisted he needed a more 'American' name, and now exclusively refers to himself as Misha. I am unsure if Misha has any real purpose as a personality — like Emmanuel, he seems to be a way of coping with life at Warner's, as his first 'acting' role involved him working at an women's asylum and other roles have had him acting in a mental institution as well. Misha claims a rather extravagant life and past. It is unclear if he lies to impress people or actually believes his stories to be true. **Update '03 **Gabriel left a book in Novak's room and after reading it Misha has developed an infatuation with the author Victoria Vantoch. He claims to find secret messages in the book dedicated to him. **Update '04** After repeated attempts by Mrs. Vantoch to tell Misha that she is happily married to someone else her agent has filled a restraining order. **Edit** Mrs. Vantoch has been informed that Novak is a patient here and will not be pursuing any legal battles. Misha continues to write letters and send gifts to her. **Update '09** Mrs. Vantoch is still vigilant in telling Misha that they are not husband and wife. Misha explains these away as her worrying his popularity among female viewers might he negatively impacted if they found out he was married. After Misha sent a letter informing her that he was having his tonsils taken out, Mrs. Vantoch sent him the first chapter of a new book she is writing, as well as a get well soon card. Misha has now declared that Mrs. Vantoch and him are expecting their first child. **Update '10** Misha now claims to have a son, West, with Mrs. Vantoch, but that he is sick and thus can not be brought out in public much and needs to remain with his mother. Misha ignores attempts to be told that nearly twelve months have passed since him telling people his 'wife' is pregnant and the supposed birth of his son — he insists that people are getting their dates wrong. **Update'11** Misha received a letter from Mrs. Vantoch's husband, asking him to cease writing his wife. Misha reacted badly to the letter but his contact with Mrs. Vantoch has only increased after this incidence.


	7. Chapter 7

Dean had thought that the longer he ignored the scratches on Castiel's face, the less he'd want to break Leviathan's fingers — which actually would have been counterproductive, but Dean had never been one for thinking things through. However, the scratches became more difficult to ignore every time he looked at Castiel, or really anyone who was wearing Castiel at the time, and just when the last of the gashes were healing up, Misha showed up with a freshly ripped open lip. Dean lost it.

"That's it. Come on, Mish."

"That's the worst nickname ever. How much time do you save dropping a single letter? Do I call you Ensen?"

"Stop talking." Dean grabbed for Misha's neck, wrapping his hand up in the god awful blue sweater he was wearing. He started dragging Misha back to his room, ignoring him as he blabbered on.

"I was just joking when I asked if you wanted a round two!"

"Please, you've been flirting with me all week."

"You're my co-worker!" Dean could tell Misha was struggling to figure out if Dean (Jensen) was goofing around or actually man-handling into his bedroom. "I have a wife!"

"Yeah, I've seen the sappy love letters." Dean kept a tight grip on Misha's sweater and used his other hand to open the door to room 333. Misha had apparently decided something weird was definitely going on and laughed nervously.

"You know, that whole book on threesomes really gives people the wrong idea, but you know the thing about threesomes is there needs to be _three_." Dean started to pull him inside and Misha latched on to the door frame. "I'm not cheating on my wife!"

"Misha, seriously, it's okay." Dean tugged on Misha's hands, trying to pry them off the door, but he hung on so tight his nails left scratches in the wood.

"This is like the start of a fanfic," Dean heard him mutter disbelievingly.

"I'm doing this for your own good!" Dean wrapped his arms around Misha's waist, yanking at him, but he barely moved an inch. For someone that looked so small he sure had a lot of strength in him.

"Oh God, this is like the start of a _bad_ fanfic." Dean placed a foot on the wall for leverage and gave one last forceful tug and they both went flying to the ground. Dean was on his feet and by the door in seconds before Misha could scramble away from him. The door closed with a heavy slam and Dean patiently waited for the frozen Misha to grin that grin that had too many teeth and not enough joy.

"Leviathan," Dean greeted when he saw the man blink up at him.

"Dean." A saner person might have wondered why he was on the floor with Dean looming over him, but Leviathan was the craziest sonofabitch he'd ever met. Leviathan rose up to his knees, running hands down the blue sweater, picking at a loose string on the white design.

"We need to have a talk." Leviathan eyebrows shot up — talking was obviously the last thing on his mind. Leviathan's hands disappeared under his sweater, lifting it above his head and leaving him in a grey shirt. He folded the sleeves in, rose to his feet, and placed the sweater in the top drawer of the dresser. He turned back to Dean, leaning on one arm against the dresser, and looked at Dean expectantly. "This is usually where you quote some obscure grade eight literature class shit."

Leviathan gave a tiny smile, one that was a lot less deranged-serial-killer than normal. "We're getting along so well; I trust you so much for this one second that I'm going to let you yank on me."

"Uh, that's not really what I was expecting."

"Not everything I read is a literary classic, Dean." He pushed away from the dresser and motioned to the bed. "Sit."

"I'm not here to–"

"You wanted to talk," he interrupted, the bed creaking as he sat down and folded his legs beneath him, "so sit and we'll talk."

"You think you can manage to keep your hands to yourself for five minutes?"

Leviathan looked over at the clock nailed above his doorway. "Five minutes."

Dean sat down next to him Leviathan, sitting as far away as he could, his back against the wall. "Your face."

"It is rather nice, isn't it?" Leviathan teased. He raised his hand up, bringing an already chewed up thumb to his lips and biting down.

"Stop." Dean reached over and yanked Leviathan's hand away. His eyes flashed, something angry and dark, and Dean was glad there weren't any sharp objects around this time. "I don't like that."

"Well I guess it's a good thing I don't much care about what you think."

"You don't get much company in here, do you?" Dean leaned forward, though not enough that he had to worry about Leviathan scratching his eyes out. "What would you do if I just didn't show up anymore and left you all alone?"

"I'd break every bone in my hand," Leviathan snarled, flexing the fingers on his right hand. Dean paused. This really wasn't going the way he'd expected it to and he could tell Leviathan was getting agitated.

"Why do you do it?" his eyes swept over the healing wounds and the fresh bite mark on his lip. "Why do you hurt yourself?"

"I get off on it, I like the taste of blood, I'm a naughty boy that needs to be punished. What the fuck does it matter why I do it?"

"Hey, I'm not– I'm not judging you or anything. I'm just asking." Dean inched back on the bed, not realizing until that moment how close he'd gotten to Leviathan. The other man's lips twitched back into a sneer. He could tell Dean didn't want to be around him, but most people didn't feel that way until after he'd bitten a chunk out of them. "I thought we could, uh, make a deal or something."

The intensity on Leviathan's features dimmed, his eyes not softening, but loosing the sharp edge they had before. His head tilted to the side, eyeing Dean up and down, his shoulders relaxed enough that he no longer looked as threatening. "A deal?"

"Yes."

"What kind of deal?"

"I want you to stop doing…this," Dean motioned between Leviathan's face and bloody fingers. "You don't like being alone, I get that, but you need to stop."

"And what do I get out of this arrangement?"

"I, uh, what do you want? My brother owns a shitload of books, he can bring you some–" Dean sucked in a breath when he felt Leviathan's hands reach out and grip his thighs.

"Third base."

"What?"

"I'll do what you want." He leaned in, putting his weight on his knees, and ran his thumbs along the seam of Dean's jeans, "if you give me what I want."

"No," Dean said firmly, because hell, he'd let Leviathan cut his arms off with a rusty butter knife before he did that.

"Second base," Leviathan tried again.

"If you go an entire month," Dean pushed Leviathan's hands off him, "…first base."

Leviathan shook his head. "Second."

"First and I'll visit you." Leviathan seemed to mull over the conditions, bitting down on his lip in concentration, quickly letting go when he saw the sour look on Dean's face.

"You'll visit," Leviathan said slowly, "even though I'm not blowing you?"

"Yeah, is that hard to believe?"

"_You're_ hard to believe." Leviathan leaned backed, resting all his weight on his hands. "What's the catch?"

"No catch, you just look shitty covered in blood."

Leviathan held out a hand to Dean. "Deal?"

"Deal," he confirmed and shook his hand. Dean felt Leviathan's hand squeeze his and that mischievous grin appeared again before he tugged Dean close. His other hand snaked up to grab the back of Dean's neck to keep him in place while Leviathan slammed their lips together.

"Hey, hey!" Dean said his voice muffled by Leviathan's mouth. "I said a month."

Leviathan pulled away, only long enough for him to bury his face against Dean's neck. "I have to seal the deal."

Before Dean could say anything he felt the other man's hot breath against his skin, a feeling that was suddenly replaced by pain as sharp teeth bit into him. "Shit!" he swore, shoving Leviathan off him and scrambling to his feet.

His hand shot up to his neck and came back bloody. He glared at Leviathan who looked genuinely confused, the faint hint of blood staining his white teeth. "What's wrong?"

"You bit me!" Dean cursed himself — he should have added a 'don't hurt me either' clause to their deal. He'd done what he came to do, though, and since he didn't see a need to stay any longer, he gave one last cold look to Leviathan before spinning on his heals and heading for the door.

"Wait!" Leviathan called after him, jumping off the bed and following. "Stay."

"Do I look stupid to you?" Dean asked over his shoulder, ripping the door open and leaving Leviathan behind.

"Would it help if I said I was sorry?"

Dean stopped in the hall and looked over at Leviathan who hovered by the open door. His eyes were wide, the grin long gone from his face. Dean had a flash back of his little brother standing at his bedroom door, telling him that he was scared of the dark. "Are you sorry?"

"No," he answered honestly, and when Dean took a step back to leave, Leviathan snarled and tried to follow. He stopped dead in his tracks when he reached the door, like he'd slammed into a glass wall. Dean waited patiently for the blank look to disappear, because frankly he would be happy to talk to anyone but Leviathan at that point. "Oh. It's you."

"Yep," Dean nodded.

"I wish you wouldn't insist on aggravating it. I don't understand why you even come to visit that thing."

"Boredom, mostly," Dean shrugged.

"You are aware that he could consume you in a single bite." The supposed god's eyes zeroed in on Dean's neck. "It appears he has already tried."

Dean covered the bite mark with his hand and snorted. "As much as I'd like to stay here and discuss this with you, I'm freaking starving."

With that he headed for the stairway, not bothering to keep the door open for the man that followed him. With every step the smell of lunch grew stronger, the smell of red meat and the chance that Dean might have a meal that didn't taste like shit for once.

"I didn't say you could leave."

"You think its steak today? I haven't had steak in like a freaking year."

A hand grabbed the back of Dean's shirt, tugging him away from the door and slammed him back against the way.

"Do not ignore me," he growled in Dean's face, clenching his hands in Dean's shirt and pushing him hard against the wall.

"Hey, listen–"

"No, you will listen to me. I have been very patient with you, Dean, yet you continue to interfere with my business and speak to me like a child."

"So what, you gonna break my arm or some shit? I'd like to see that."

"No." He immediately let go of Dean, dropping his hands to his side, and stepped back. "No, I'm a good God, a loving God, merciful and fair. Better than…better than my Father."

"Uh, okay."

"I only punish disobedience." His eyes dropped to the floor, fingers clenching and unclenching. He opened his mouth as if to say something but then stopped himself, looking briefly angry before his face contorted in confusion then his eyes went glossy.

"Great, I was getting tired of you anyways."

"Dean?"

"Hey Jimmy," Dean grinned, mostly because he was getting better at distinguishing between the personalities. He clapped Jimmy on the back, ignoring it when the smaller man flinched. "Man, you guys are going to be the death of me."

"Oh." Jimmy looked flustered as he followed Dean out of the stairway. "I'm sorry."

"Don't worry about it, I'm digging my own grave here."

They pushed past the doors into the rec room and headed straight for the cafeteria. Missouri handed them both a plate full of meat and steamed vegetables and they sat down at one of the tables. Jimmy practically inhaled his food — it was kind of disgusting to watch the way he barely chewed before shoving another mouthful of beef into his mouth. "Hey, slow down, I'm worried you're going to choke."

A blush spread across Jimmy's cheek and he quickly swallowed, chasing the food with a gulp of water. "Sorry."

"It's cool, just take time to enjoy the taste." It wasn't often this place had juicy meat instead of the rubbery chicken that Dean hadn't quite gotten used to. "So is Gabriel coming today?"

"I think so." Jimmy took another bite of steamed broccoli, this time chewing slowly, savoring the buttery taste. "He usually calls on Thursdays, but I wasn't around that day."

"So are you two still brothers? I mean, him and Cas are, so what does that make you?"

"Well," Jimmy paused to think, swirling a piece of beef in gravy, "we're kind of like adopted brothers, I guess. I did consider his mom to be my mom when I was younger, and it took people a long time to realize that Castiel had split personalities, so he treated me like a brother. I think he liked me the most back then, 'cause Castiel can be kind of cold and Leviathan has crazy mood swings, so I think everyone found it easier when I was around. Your brother's coming too, right?"

"Yep," Dean smiled. "With some fresh apple pie."

Dean began to tell Jimmy about Sam, nothing too specific or personal, just the basics. Jimmy listened, nodding every now and then to show he was paying attention, though his eyes drifted every so often and eventually Dean realized what he was looking at. He tried to tug the collar of his shirt up higher only to feel the dry blood on the fabric. "It's nothing really, looks worse than it is."

"I did that." Jimmy looked away but Dean could still see guilty shine in his eyes.

"No, you didn't."

"I wish you would stop going in there."

Dean laughed a little until he saw the kicked puppy look on Jimmy's face. "That's what the other guy said."

"Shouldn't that make it even more obvious that he's bad news? What could possibly be so important you'd go in there twice?"

Dean didn't mention that he'd actually met with Leviathan three times already — somehow he didn't think Jimmy would like that. "I told him to stop trying to chew off his fingertips."

Jimmy shoved his plate aside and let out an annoyed sigh. "He wasn't always like this, you know. It wasn't until…I mean, he was never _good_, but he didn't used to be so bad. Then Castiel created this whole God guy to keep Leviathan at bay, but he's not really all that much better."

"At least he doesn't bite," Dean grimaced.

"Yeah…" Jimmy ran a hand through his hair, leaving it sticking out at several different angles. "Let's go in the rec room, watch a movie or something."

#$^$&

Dean hadn't realized he'd fallen asleep on the couch until he felt someone nudging his shoulder.

"Mr. Winchester, may we discuss your file?"

Dean groaned, partly because he was too tired to play personality roulette, but mostly because Emmanuel had managed to steal his file again.

"Hell, as long as I don't need to get up, you can do whatever you want." Dean ignored the cat calls coming from Meg on the other side of the room and closed his eyes again. He heard Emmanuel sit on the coffee table beside him and flip through the papers that made up his file.

"I was going through some of your file with nurse Masters."

"Great, why don't we just make photocopies so everyone can read all about me," Dean snorted.

"I assure that your file is only shown to medical personal." _Imaginary medical personal_, Dean added mentally. "Some of your military records are in here, since it pertains to your diagnoses of PTSD."

"Naturally," he mumbled, feeling himself slowly sink back into the hold of sleep.

"Are you…" Emmanuel paused and flipped through the pages one more time. "Are you familiar with the character Crankcase?"

Dean sat up so fast a heavy case of vertigo hit him square in the temples and almost made him tumble back onto the couch. Emmanuel looked taken back by his sudden display and for a few minutes all they did was stare at each other. "No, never heard of him."

"He was a character in an old G.I. Joe cartoon."

"Sorry, I didn't watch much television as a kid."

"It's just…" Emmanuel looked over to the other side of the room where the female patients were doing each other's nails in a makeshift spa day. "Nurse Masters noticed a lot of you're listed information is very similar to his. You share the same birth place."

"A lot of people are born in Lawrence, Emmanuel."

"Dr. Novak, please," he corrected. "Also, his service number is 451-61-5102 and yours is 451-61-5120, like you just switched the last two numbers, and you both share the same specialties."

"You think I faked being a soldier?"

"No, of course not." He pulled out a photocopied letter out of the folder and held it out to Dean. "A superior officer wrote a letter to the judge asking for leniency in your assault case."

"Well, there you go, the Crankcase thing is just a coincidence."

"Well, nurse Masters noticed that your superior officer shared many things in common with the G.I. Joe character Cutter."

"Look, I don't know what you're trying to get at, but just drop it."

"Nurse Masters seems to think that this is an elaborate cover up."

"What the hell do you care what a damn nurse thinks? You're supposed to be a doctor."

"I'm a very good doctor," Emmanuel huffed.

"You're a shit doctor. Have you ever done anything? Seriously, name one person you've actually cured." Dean stopped himself from continuing, because that was just playing into the guys crazy fantasy. "Hell, you can't even fix yourself."

"You can't talk to me like that."

"I know you're a little slow, so I'll try to put this in words you can understand," He knocked the file out of Emmanuel's hands and stormed out the room. "Go fornicate with yourself."

"You kiss your mother with that mouth?" Pam grinned from the other side of the room.

"He–"

"Save it." She placed a finger against his lips and winked. "I'm not your shrink, I'm just here to take you to your brother."

Dean nodded and they headed over to the elevator, Dean gladly leaving Emmanuel behind to pick up all the paper by himself. The visitor room was a floor above the main lobby, another obstacle in the path of someone trying to escape to sweet freedom, tucked away behind the offices and medical ward. There were a dozen tables surrounded by chairs. There was never enough room for all the patients to have visitors at once so there was a constant game of musical chairs going on, people getting up and down when their time ran out.

Sam stood when he saw Dean, and Jessica smiled, holding out a Tupperware container full of apple goodness. Dean ignored both of them to go straight to his pie.

"Nice to see you too," Sam bitchfaced as Dean shoved a piece of (not so) hot pie into his mouth. Dean just grinned up at him with bits of crust crumbs falling from his lips and onto the table. "Is it going well? It's nice here?"

"Oh yeah, barrel of monkeys."

"Are you making any friends?"

"What is this, a parent-teacher conference?" Jessica snatched the pie away and held it away from Dean who whined, "Jeeeeeess!"

"I didn't come here to watch you stuff your face." Jessica held the container out to Dean then quickly pulled it away when he reached for it.

"Okay, okay, I'll play nice," Dean grumbled and was rewarded with the return of his snack. "A lot of the people here are assholes, but as long as you don't mess with them they're tolerable."

"How are your sessions going?" Dean snorted, took one last bite of his pie and filled his brother in on the pointless therapy he'd been getting. The one-on-one sessions made him want to blow his brains out and the group sessions were full of TMI. Sam started chastising him for not taking the situation seriously, telling him that the doctors were only trying to help. Jessica kept butting in and elbowing Sam, telling her husband to chill and assuring Dean they were being completely supportive.

"We just want you to get better."

"Gee, lost count of how many times I've said that." A body plopped down next to Dean, sticking his finger in his pie and licking the goo off.

"Gabriel," Dean growled, pushing the now ruined pie away.

"Hey kiddo. Just visiting Cassie and thought we'd come say hi." Dean looked over his shoulder at Castiel, who'd ditched Emmanuel's white coat but he hadn't put on his trench yet.

"You know Dean?" Cas asked his brother as he walked up to join the group.

"Well not as well you know him," he grinned, winking at Dean, and it took every ounce of Dean's strength not to slap the grin right off of his face.

"Hey, I'm Sam," Sam greeted and then put an arm around Jess. "This is my wife Jessica."

"Whoa, look at you," Gabriel whistled, looking Sam up and down. "What are you, like 8'11"?"

"6'4"." Sam corrected. "Are you a patient here?"

"Oh no. See, my brother here," he yanked Castiel down into one of the chairs and pulled him into a hug, "he's the crazy one."

"I am not insane." Castiel struggled to break the hold his brother had on him. "This is all a delusion, I am here to help your brother."

"That's very nice of you Cassie," Jessica smiled — an actual smile, unlike everyone else's 'there's a good chance you'll stab a fork in my eye unless I smile and act like everything's okay'.

"It's Castiel, Miss. Gabriel calls me Cassie because he knows it aggravates me."

"You know," Gabriel turned to Dean and whispered, "this is actually going pretty well. He hasn't even accused anyone of being the Anti-Christ or doused your brother with holy water."

"Well aren't I lucky," Dean said dryly, scooting his chair farther from Gabriel.

"You making good use of my gift, Dean-o?" Gabriel asked, his voice no longer a whisper, and the other three looked over at the pair.

"Gabriel brought you something?" Castiel asked curiously.

"No! No, he didn't give me anything, I mean, if anything he got it for _you_."

"Oh, what did you bring me Gabriel?" Gabriel leaned back in his chair and grinned at his brother, but looked over at Sam before he started to answer.

"Mr. Winchester, we gotta make room for other guests, so you'll have to say goodbye to your brother," Pam said, motioning to a patient's parents waiting by the door.

"Yeah, it's okay," Dean said, jumping to his feet and avoiding eye contact with either Castiel or Gabriel. He held a hand out for Jessica, whose stomach had gotten large enough that she needed help getting up. The three of them walked to the door without another word to the Novak brothers.

"Are you okay?" Sam asked as they waited at the elevator. "You seem kind of jumpy."

"Well, let's just say if I wasn't crazy when I got here, I sure as hell am now."


	8. Chapter 8

"This is incredibly boring."

"Yeah." Dean sighed. "I know."

Dean laced his fingers behind his head and leaned against the headboard. Leviathan sat on the floor flipping through the pages of an old book. "What are you reading?"

"Lolita"

"Is it any good?"

"If you're into pedophilia" He tossed the book aside and looked up at Dean expectantly. Dean could practically hear him thinking _I have to go through a whole month of this?_

"So uh what did you do before you ended up here?"

"A lot of things." He replied, running a hand through his messy in hair in a futile effort to tame it.

"You're a supposed to be like a sea monster right?" Leviathan gave him a quizzical look and picked up another book off the floor, opening it half way and dragged his fingers over the fading words. "Its just you don't look like a monster."

Leviathan shot him a toothy grin "Is that a flirtation?"

"No." Dean said quickly and Leviathan just shrugged and continued reading. They sat in silence for awhile after that, Dean watched Leviathan mouth the words as he read them. He thought back to what Castiel had told him Leviathan, the horrible beast from the bible, being an angel seemed far fetched to Dean so he couldn't imagine how someone could convince themselves they were a giant insatiable sea serpent. "How old are you?"

"I'm not sure." His eyes narrowed in concentration. "When did oxygen begin attaching itself to hydrogen?"

"But you haven't always looked like this?"

Leviathan stretched an arm out and wiggled his fingers. "No this is new. Much less scaly."

"And do you have any idea when you…got less scaly?"

"Mardi Gras."

"Piss drunk and covered in beads Mardi Gras?"

"No." Leviathan's brows drew up in confusion at Dean's reference. "Its a day of indulgence before the beginning of Lent. I remember the church bells and pancakes."

"So what did you indulge in?"

Leviathan closed his book and smiled at Dean. "You certainly ask a lot of questions."

"Sorry I'm just curious."

"Curiosity killed the cat."

Dean opened the drawer in the night table and rifled through the contents. Shoving the condoms, dusty books and Misha's cell phone aside he grabbed a faded box off the bottom. "You play chess?"

"I dabble." He scooted forward and smirked. "Are you challenging me?"

"Nothing else to do." Dean slid off the bed and dumped the box's contents on the floor. Leviathan laid the board out and started to set up the pieces while Dean copied his movements with the white pieces. When they were all set up Dean stared at the board and strained to remember exactly how chess was played.

"White goes first."

"Oh." Dean picked up a pawn and moved it up two spaces.

"Pawn to E3." Leviathan moved the piece then rested his chin on his hand, eyes darting around the board and planning his next move.

"Horse guy to C…6." Leviathan raised an eyebrow to Dean's name for the knight but Dean just shrugged it's not like he claimed to an expert.

"Bishop to C4."

"Pawn to H6."

"Queen to F3."

"Rook to B8."

"Queen to F7." Leviathan switched his queen for Dean's pawn. "Checkmate."

"What? But I can still…"Dean reached for his king but Leviathan shook his head and told him not to bother. "Want to play again?"

"Why, I'm only going to beat you again."

"This is going to be a very long four weeks."

"My thoughts exactly."

* * *

"Sometimes I wonder if you take any of this seriously." Castiel sighed.

"What are you, my mother?"

"Dean," Castiel gripped Dean's shoulder "how much of your life do you want to waste here?"

"Jesus Christ," Dean swore, throwing his hands up in the air "the rest of my life okay? I can't imagine a better place to be, stuck between the nympho and fire starter while a schizo writes about my crazy supernatural adventure and his girlfriend writes insanely inappropriate stories about me and my brother."

"Oh…you've heard of those." Chuck nudged Becky letting her know it was time to stop talking.

"Nympho?" Meg asked with mock pain.

"Have you actually ever seen me start a fire? This place is full of fire hazards." Ruby snorted.

"If you two are going to have another argument you can do it somewhere else." Melissa grouched turning the volume up on the television. "Thirty minutes on Tuesdays, that's all I ask and you people just won't shut up."

"You know what," Dean snapped "screw all of you. I'm out of here." Dean jumped to his feet and left the other patients to argue amongst themselves. Castiel was quick to follow but Dean was tired of talking and acted like he wasn't there.

"I hadn't meant to upset you."

"Just leave me alone." He snarled and the harsh tone of his voice made Castiel back away. "Look it's not your fault, I'm just…not in a good mood."

"Your nightmares are getting worse." Castiel guessed.

"No, it's the rain, it's been raining for two freaking days."

Castiel looked down the hall at the small window that was covered in tiny droplets that was smeared against the glass. "The rain…upsets you?"

"It's not as stupid as it sounds."

"Does it frighten you?"

"No." Dean snapped. "I'm not afraid of the rain."

Castiel huffed at Dean's harsh tone and turned to go back to the rec room. Dean rubbed his palm over his sore eyes and sighed, he could hear every rain drop that slammed onto the windows, the building even the street outside. He took a deep breath to try and calm himself and went after Castiel. "hey listen-"

Castiel spun around and glared at him but waited to hear what Dean had to say. Dean licked his lips and took a step forward, he opened his mouth to force out an apology but at that moment Ruby grabbed the remote from Melissa's hand and changed the channel. The _rat-tat-tat_ of gun fire filled the room, a shrill scream ripped through the air and it stopped Dean dead in his tracts. His breath caught in his throat and Castiel shot him a confused look before Dean dropped to his knees.

"Shit, shit, shit." Dean pressed his palms against his eyes blocking out the suddenly blinding light. Another round of bullets sounded out and the woman on the television screams died down to choked whimpers. "Shut her up. Make her stop screaming."

"Dean, what's wrong?" Castiel stared down at him

"I…I need to go back. Where's Alastair?"

"Who?" Castiel knelt down beside Dean.

"He said- he gave me an order and I should…" Castiel placed a hand on Dean's back trying to calm him down. His fingers had barely grazed Dean before he lashed out at Castiel, twisting his arm behind his back and pinned him to the floor. He barked something out in a language that Castiel couldn't understand and when he didn't answer Dean grabbed the back of his shirt and shook him.

"I don't understand what you're saying!" Castiel cried when Dean slammed his cheek into the cold tile on the floor.

"Security we have a Code Green on the fourth floor." Nurse Pam said into her walkie-talkie but didn't move to help Castiel. Dean tugged on Castiel twisted arm and kept yelling at him in the foreign language. The elevator dinged and opened, two security guards from the lobby rushed out, one grabbed Dean's wrist and squeezed until he released Castiel's arm then the other quickly pulled him off.

"Get off me." Dean snarled.

"Dean, you need to calm down." Pam helped Castiel to his feet and moved him back a safe distance. "Dr. Hill is on her way."

"Don't touch me!" He thrashed out at one of the guards and kicked at the other. They pulled his hands behind his back and forced Dean to the floor, as strong as he was he wasn't a mach for the two muscular men.

"Be careful!" Dr. Hill snapped at the men holding Dean down. They loosed their hold on him but still kept him pinned to the floor as the doctor knelt down beside Dean. One guard held out Dean's arm and the doctor tried to find a vein a needle in her other hand. The prick of the needle sent Dean into another fit but within seconds his vision started to fade and before a full minute had passed he was out cold.

"Yes I know you're very busy, Kripke." Dean could hear someone talking but his body didn't listen to his brain, his eyes refused to open and his head wouldn't turn. "He's assaulted another patient."

When the haze of sleep began to fade, Dean recognized the voice as Dr. Hill which meant she was probably talking about him. He tried to remember why he was back in the medical ward, did he pass out again? Was there some mix up with his medication? He didn't know who he would have assaulted, though Ruby would have certainly been high on the list. "I know what the procedure is but I don't think- yes he does have a history of acting violently but- Dean seemed to have been experiencing intense flashbacks and Mr. Novak just happened to be close by."

The doctor on the phone kept cutting Dr. Hill off and it would have made Dean a little happy that someone was able to shut her up, except that he'd apparently attacked the only person he could stand in the whole building. "No, Castiel." She paused, listening to Kripke. "I've already written out the prescription, that's not the problem, he refuses to take part in therapy. It's not even that he avoids talking about the cause of his PTSD he refuses to talk about anything, I asked him what he did in his spare time and he told me to shove it."

Dean's eyes fluttered open and he stared at the white ceiling while he tried to force his fingertips to move. "I know you're not scheduled to visit for another month but…it could be beneficial if- yes sir, yes I understand."

"Shitty boss?" Dean croaked.

"If you _ever_," Dr. Hill hissed jabbing a finger into Dean's still numb chest "assault another patient again, I'll have you transferred to a prison cell for so long your nephew will be a graduate by the time you get out."

"What the hell did you give me?"

"It will ware off soon." She pulled a chair up next to his bed. "I've written you a prescription for amitriptyline it will help prevent you from experiencing recall episodes."

She began listing possible side effects, a list so long that Dean had to stop her half way through. "Whoa, hey now, screw that I'd rather have the hallucinations."

"Winchester, do you know how many doctors worked here four months ago?"

"No, don't particularly care either."

"Five. Now we're down to me and two part time staff that come in for Meg and Chuck. This hospital is under funded and over-worked, we get stuck with violent patients so nobody ever wants to work here. We had a two month record with no incidence but that went out the window right around the time you nearly dislocated Novak's shoulder."

Dr. Hill stormed out after that leaving Dean to slowly regain feeling in his legs before one of the nurses escorted him back upstairs. He looked around the rec room for Castiel but only found a room full of people that didn't want to get within ten feet of him. The next place he went to check was Castiel's room, silently pleading he'd find Castiel and not Leviathan, but when he walked into the hallway he found Castiel waiting outside Dean's room. Castiel sat crossed legged next to the door and held an ice pack to his right cheek.

"Hey." Dean greeted as he flopped down next to Castiel. He didn't get a response and Castiel looked away giving Dean a good view of the bruise that was forming beneath the ice pack. "Cas, I didn't-"

"It's not of import."

"No it really is because-"

"Dean," Castiel snapped "the fault isn't yours, it's mine."

"What? You're the one that looks like a battered house wife."

"I'm supposed to be saving you but I am failing, miserably." Castiel's shoulders sagged. "My grace is weakening I can't even heal myself, we are running out of time and I am concerned I won't be able to help you."

"Am I interrupting something?" They both turned to the blond man leaning against the stairway's door frame. Dena instantly felt Castiel stiffen beside him and that made the stranger smirk.

"Lucifer."

"How's my favorite angel? Still a slave to your insane delusions I see." He stood up and shoved his hands into his pocket, when he took a step into the hall Castiel stood up like he was preparing for a fight. Lucifer chucked at Castiel's response and looked down at Dean. "It's just Luc actually."

"Stay away from him Lucifer, you can not have Dean Winchester."

"Don't worry I'm not after your pet, I was just stopping by to say hello." He teased. "Guess you were right, I couldn't stay away."

"Where's Michael?" Castiel growled

"Let's just say big brother finally got sick of me and decided to move on."

"You belong here, your brother should not have taken you away."

The grin on Luc's face faltered but then returned twice as bright. When Lucifer took another step toward Castiel Dean stood up beside him, getting a bad vibe off the new patient. Luc eyed Dean before giving him a smile, one that reminded him of Leviathan right before he pounced. "Well I'm here now and everything can go back to normal."

**You know I probably could have posted this like three days ago but I finally broke down and got a livejournal account and have been posting my stories there and whatnot. I had never really planned on doing that but apparently is deleting a bunch of stories and this story might get a bit smutty later so I decided to have a back up.**

**Also net chapter we are going to find out why the hospital is so underfunded and badly run :(**

**Hope you enjoy!**


	9. Chapter 9

"Have I ever told you how much I miss you when you're gone?" Leviathan smiled sweetly at the man beside him.

"Nope," Gabriel replied, the bubble gum in his mouth making a loud smacking sound as he chewed it.

The smile dropped from Leviathan's face and he leaned back in the new chair. "There's a reason for that." Leviathan lifted his legs up, planted his feet on the wall, and pushed until his chair slid across to the other side of the room. "This is such a small place, yet you insist on crowding it up with junk."

"You asked for it."

Leviathan spun around again, and pushed himself back to the other side of the room, barely missing Gabriel this time. "I did not."

"Someone did," Gabriel shrugged. When Leviathan tried to wheel himself across the room a third time, Gabriel reached out and stopped him and Leviathan grumbled in response. "Keep it, maybe Dean could use it or something."

Leviathan gave Gabriel a harsh look before folding his legs underneath himself and spinning the chair. "Yes, Dean, your little spy."

"He's not a spy, Lev."

"Assassin?" He spun faster and faster, his hand darting out every now and then to push off the bedpost to make him keep spinning. Gabriel watched him for a few minutes, expecting him to get bored and stop, but he just kept spinning around and around and around. Finally Gabriel grabbed the back of the chair, causing Leviathan to jerk to the right by the sudden stop. He tried to glare up at the 'angel' but his eyes were unfocused and his mind dizzy.

"Leviathan, I just wanna make it clear that I am in no way trying to hurt you, kill you, sabotage you, or keep you locked up in here. The doors right there," Gabriel pointed. "You can leave anytime you want. No one's stopping you."

Leviathan glanced over at the door, his mind still spinning, and he nearly bit into his lip before he remembered Dean and stopped himself. "You used to be fun Gabriel."

"Yeah," Gabriel snapped. "I used to be a lot of fun. I used to travel and party. I used to have a fiancée and a house in L.A. but now I live in a shitty apartment so I can pay for my brother to waste away in an asylum. I'm trying to help you. You think I like seeing you like this?"

"I don't need your pity," Leviathan scoffed, slapping Gabriel's hand away. "I'm stronger than you."

"I know, Lev." Gabriel let out a breath and backed away from Leviathan. It wasn't hard to be infuriated by the thing that had taken up residence in his baby brother, but Gabriel tried to stay as calm as possible; the only one that could ever make him loose his cool like this was Leviathan. The monster fed off of anger, though, and Gabriel was just fueling the fire. "You're very strong."

"Don't humor me," Leviathan objected. He raised a foot against the bed and gave a hard push, sending the chair to crash against the dresser. "I know what you think of me, angel."

"I _think_ I should warn Dean to stay away from you before cut off his face and wear it in a messed up escape attempt." Leviathan's eyebrows knitted together and his mouth fell open in a mixture of confusion and disgust. "You know, Hannibal Lector, Silence of the Lambs?"

Leviathan rolled his eyes and spun around, deciding the wall was much more interesting than Gabriel. "Fine," Gabriel sighed, throwing his hands up in the air in defeat. "I don't know why I bother with you, Lev."

Leviathan turned to watch him go, a twinge of jealousy piercing him as he watched the angel walk out the door. He made leaving look so easy. He waited, eyes glued to the door, expecting Gabriel to come back and apologize, but as the minutes dragged by, he gave up on the notion. Standing up, he kicked the chair over, giving a disappointed huff when it didn't break. He reminded himself silently, _One week down, three to go._

_ %^#$&_

Castiel had been rattling on about the devil for so long that Dean probably knew him better then anybody else in the hospital. Then again, most of the information was probably made up. At least it gave Castiel a reason to stick around and Dean didn't have to play Russian roulette with the alters.

Except Dean hadn't seen the angel much that day.

He hadn't really noticed his absence, though, since he'd been down stairs with Sam. It wasn't until he saw Gabriel leave, candy free and with a scowl on his face, that he thought about Castiel. By the look on Gabriel's face, Dean could guess that Castiel probably wasn't walking around at the moment.

Having six personalities meant that, depending on who was in control, Castiel got along with everyone and no one. Dean couldn't stand Emmanuel, Ruby thought Jimmy was whiny, and Gabriel, having been raised by good Catholic parents, wasn't all that fond of the man that declared himself God. All across the board, though, everyone avoided Leviathan, so Dean figured he'd start there.

Dean got to the fourth floor and, like he expected, found the door closed on room _333_, along with a swivel chair that was tossed on the ground. He grabbed the doorknob and braced himself for the tantrum he expected Leviathan to be having. A laugh that wasn't Leviathan's sounded out from behind the door instead, and when Dean realized Leviathan wasn't in the room by himself, he leaned an ear against the door to listen in. Dean always hated it when he caught Sammy eavesdropping, but he needed to know who would be stupid enough to face Leviathan in a bad mood.

"A whole month," Luc drawled. "And have you been a good boy?"

"Bite me," Leviathan snapped.

"That would be against the rules, wouldn't it?"

"I said _no_." Dean imagined the unusually sinister pout that Leviathan had every time he didn't get what he wanted. "You should go."

"Hey now," Luc coaxed, bed springs squeaking as he moved. Dean's hand tightened around the door knob. "I'm not going to hurt you. Lover boy never has to know."

"You'll understand if I think you're lying." It went quiet. Dean strained to hear any sound that might indicate what was happening, but when he still didn't hear anything after a few moments, he nearly opened the door, only to stop when he heard Leviathan speak again. "What are you doing?"

"I was just looking for where you got _property of Dean Winchester_ tattooed on you," Luc teased.

"Get off of me," Leviathan said, but his voice had lost its hard edge.

"It's not like you're married to the guy," Luc hummed, and Dean heard Leviathan's breath hitch. "Monogamy wasn't part of the deal, was it?"

"No," Leviathan murmured. "No it wasn't." The bed squeaked again and neither of them spoke. It was the last push Dean needed to force himself to open the door. He found Leviathan sitting at the end of the bed and Luc, friggin Luc, tugging his hair and mouthing at his neck. Leviathan's eyes shot open at the sound of the creaking door and he pushed at Luc's shoulders until he reluctantly moved off him.

"Oh," Luc goaded. "Hello Dean."

"Get out," Dean snarled. Luc raised an eyebrow and Dean wanted to smack the smug look right off his face. "Now."

The blond man looked over at Leviathan, expecting back up, but he only shrugged and remained silent. Leviathan's reaction seemed to amuse Luc, who finally stood up, bumping against Dean's shoulder on his way out. Dean bit the inside of his cheek and watched Luc disappear down the hallway while Leviathan remained unusually quiet.

"I can't believe you," Dean fumed. "I can't believe you'd let that–"

"Do you really want to know why I do it?" Leviathan cut him off and ran his thumb over the still healing mark on his lip. Dean didn't answer him, wanting to know but at the same time still wanting to bitch Leviathan out for letting Luc touch him. "I want _out_."

"Don't bother playing the sympathy card with me."

"This body is suffocating." Leviathan's hands raised up to grip the thin fabric of his shirt. "When God — the real one, not the power hungry wanna-be that trapped me here — when He first created me, there were two of us. Then He suddenly decides that we're dangerous, worried that we might not play nice with His precious angels or bouncy new humans. So Daddy, in all His infinite wisdom, chopped her up, leaving me all by my lonesome. And it's been like that ever since. From what I can tell, it'll be like that for the rest of eternity."

If any of that had been true, or if Leviathan had any other expression beside boredom plastered on his face, Dean might've actually felt sorry for him. But remembering the spiteful look Castiel gave Luc and thinking about how easily Leviathan let him in his bed nearly made Dean's blood boil. Leviathan waited for Dean to say something, but when he just clenched his jaw, Leviathan continued. "Lucifer, he comes and goes. Of course, I never expect him to stay."

"Leviathan," Dean cautioned. The less he reminded Dean about the newest patient, the better.

"Crowley, he stayed for a long time, probably the longest. Still, he left, just like everyone else. Gabriel, Father Adler, those things that passed for my parents, the slew of whores I've met throughout my time here…eventually, they all leave." Leviathan splayed his hands out behind him and leaned back. "It's Castiel, isn't it?"

"What?"

"The angel you're working with. This whole thing reeks of him." Leviathan's lips twisted into a sneer. "You know when I first got put in this body, I figured God was trying to teach me some sort of lesson, forcing me into the meat of a tiny child. So I tried to play along, did what I was told, and I was good, _very_ good, and do you know what it got me?"

Dean shook his head and instantly regretted it, because it only made Leviathan keep talking. "Absolutely nothing. I'm still stuck in this skin. Even worse, I'm stuck _here_ by some juiced up whack job, and God doesn't do anything about it."

Dean wanted to tell him that being human wasn't so bad, that it defiantly had some perks, but Leviathan cut him off again before he could say anything. "And then you come along, all head strong and full of valor and expecting me to behave because you act like you give a damn. What'd he offer you? I wonder what Castiel promised you to get you to go into the monster's den."

"Castiel doesn't even know about you," Dean protested, but judging by the sly grin that passed along Leviathan's lips, it was the wrong thing to say.

"So it's all you then?" Leviathan asked. "You, braving danger to slay the beast."

"I'm trying to help you," Dean insisted. "God knows why, but–"

Leviathan let out a laugh that was more akin to giggling. "Trying to help me? How noble of you."

Dean bristled at the thinly veiled insult that questioned his intentions. "I don't get anything out of this. If all I wanted was to get into your pants, I obviously wouldn't need to try so hard."

Leviathan didn't seem fazed by being called easy, but Dean reminded himself that he should avoid insulting the maniac. Last thing he needed was him going psycho again. "Do you think if you manage to stitch me back together, it will make up for everything you've done?"

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"You think you can trust the angels, but you can't. They have information on you, a whole file of all the nasty things you've done throughout your life. I've read it, every dirty little detail, and trust me, the heavenly host will use it all against you the _moment_ you step out of line."

"Leviathan, there are _no_ angels." _There isn't even a you,_ he nearly added, but how do you convince someone they don't exist?

"Maybe then you're not working for the others. Maybe you're batting for the other team. It wouldn't surprise me that you'd land yourself in Hell, after all the things you've done."

"Shut up, you don't know anything about me," Dean growled.

"Did they ever figure out what started that fire? The one that killed your mother." The breath caught in Dean's throat and it only made Leviathan chuckle. "You know fire-starting is one of the first sign of psychopathy. Did little Dean like to play with matches?"

"Shut your mouth!"

"Then leaving daddy behind when your division got attacked, that was pretty low, abandoning your own flesh and blood."

"It wasn't like that."

"How long do you think it took him to bleed out? I hear sometimes people can survive for days trapped beneath rubble."

"Stop it."

"Did you cry at his funeral? I bet you didn't. That's the thing with psychopaths, no remorse." Dean shot out and grabbed hold of Leviathan, wrapping his hands in his shirt and yanking him to his feet. Leviathan's hands grabbed Dean's wrists, trying to keep his balance when Dean nearly lifted him off his feet. "Is it nice finding someone just as disgusting as you are?"

Leviathan's laugh was cut short when Dean slammed him into the wall, knocking the breath right out of him. Dean growled, mere inches from the other man, but it did nothing to diminish the smug grin on Leviathan's face. "What are you going to do, Dean?" he taunted. "Are you going to hit me?"

He wanted to — God, did he want to. The dark part of him wanted to beat Leviathan until he saw red. But the rational part of him knew that Leviathan was only trying to get a rise out of him, force Dean down to his level, and frankly he was doing a pretty good job at it. He tugged Leviathan away from the wall and his eyes squeezed shut, expecting Dean to hit him square in the face. Instead, Dean tossed him out the door, and as soon as he was out of range, Dean slammed his fist into the wall.

Dean tried to force his breath back to normal, the pain in his fist helping to ground him back to reality. Even though he knew that Leviathan didn't exist outside these four walls, Dean still expected him to leap up and attack him. Instead he looked out to see the empty shell staring blankly up at the ceiling, and Dean prayed that Emmanuel or the supposed God didn't show up, because they could only make things worse.

"Dean?" Jimmy eventually squeaked, pushing himself up onto his elbows. He gulped when he saw Dean still shaking with rage and inched farther away from him.

"Get up." He meant to sound calm, but instead he snapped and Jimmy flinched, vigorously shaking his head. Dean took a deep breath and tried again. "I'm not going to hurt you man. I'm just– _shit_ I'm gonna friggen _kill_ Luc."

"Luc?" Jimmy breathed. "Luc's back?"

Dean didn't answer. He stormed past Jimmy and headed for the doorway, skipping every other step, just trying to get to the rec room as fast as possible. He could hear Jimmy behind him and momentarily thought that he probably should have told him to stay behind. Luc was right there, sitting on the couch next to Ruby and acting so carefree that it just made Dean's blood boil. His hand on her knee, whispering in her ear, and a wicked grin on Ruby's face. Luc left Leviathan and went straight for Ruby. "You!" Dean snarled.

"Mr. Winchester," Dr. Hill snapped behind him, and Dean turned around to find her standing next to Jimmy. Dean could tell by the look on his face that Jimmy had ratted him out to the doctor, who was looking at him with stifled annoyance. "Is there a problem?"

"No," Dean grunted. "No problem."

"Candice." Luc grinned at the blonde doctor and nudged Ruby off the couch. "It's nice to see you again."

"Mr. Milton."

"You know, I'm glad you're still working here. Last time I was here I heard they might cancel your internship." He stretched his legs out over the couch and winked at the doctor. "But you're the only one here that can make a decent cup of coffee. Remember how I like it? Two creams, no sugar."

He waved a hand at her, expecting her to quickly scramble off and get him his drink. "I'm a doctor here now, Mr. Milton. You should address me as one."

"Well you're not _my_ doctor," he scoffed. "Speaking of which, where _is_ my doctor? I've been here a whole day and he hasn't even stopped by to say howdy."

"Crowley no longer works here."

"Oh." Luc's smile widened. "So it finally happened."

"Mr. Milton," Dr. Hill cautioned, though it sounded more like a warning.

"I guess it was only a matter of time. Too bad, he was a pretty decent doctor. Held out a lot longer then I did."

"Luc!" she snapped, taking a step towards him, but Luc ignored her and continued.

"What I'm wondering though," he mused, lacing his fingers behind his head and leaning back onto the arm of the couch, "is if someone walked in on the good doctor and Leviathan getting nasty, or if Crowley's conscious just got the better of him and he finally confessed."

Dean and Dr. Hill both spun around simultaneously, just in time to see Jimmy pale. "He's lying," he said, voice wavering. "Isn't he?"

"Why don't we go discuss this in my office?"

"No! He– Luc is…" Jimmy's frantic eyes locked on Luc, shooting him a wild look and raising his eyebrows. "Why didn't you tell me?"

Dr. Hill cringed. "Dr. Kripke thought–"

"Did you tell any of us? Misha? Emmanuel?" Jimmy's hands shook and his eyes turned an angry red as fat tears started to pool out. "You didn't, did you? You didn't tell anyone."

"Gabriel knows," Dr. Hill let slip. Jimmy let out a raspy breath and she was quick to jump in and try to calm him down. "He thought it would be best if we didn't tell any of you."

"Gabriel…" Jimmy choked out, a betrayed look flashing across his face. "Crowley said he was going to help. I–I trusted him."

"Jimmy," Dean soothed, placing a hand on the shaking man's shoulder.

"Don't touch me!" he railed, jerking away from Dean. "I can't– I can't–" Jimmy gasped, trying to suck in breath between sobs. Just when Dean was about to try again, the man stilled, as did everyone else in the room, waiting to see who would pop up in Jimmy's place. The empty body straightened, blue eyes focusing and looking confusedly at the others. He raised a hand up and ran his fingertip through the stream of tears. "Why am I here?"

"Well look what the cat dragged him."

"Lucifer," the god scowled.

"How ya doin', Padre?" Luc sat up and looked around the room. "Looks like you've locked me up again."

"I did?" he asked, before quickly covering up, "Yes, of course I did."

"How fortunate for all of humanity."

"Enough," the doctor said. "Mr. Milton, my office, _now_." The blond rolled his eyes and stood to his feet, winking at Dean when he passed.

'God', meanwhile, was giving Dean a hard stare. "Why is it that every time I am called to Earth, you seem to be around?"

Dean sighed. "I can't even begin to tell you how not a good time this is."

"I have much more important things to attend to," he continued, ignoring Dean's words.

"For Christ's sake, I'm not keeping you here! I don't even _want_ you here!" 'God's' blue eyes darkened at the blasphemy, his lips peeled back in a sneer.

"Hey Misha!" Meg stepped between the two, a hand extended behind her to push on Dean's stomach until he backed off. "Got a new script, hot off the presses! Wanna see?""

She held the stack of papers up, the smile still plastered on her face, but Dean could see her holding her breath. When the lopsided grin appeared after a minute, Meg's whole body instantly relaxed. Misha grabbed the script and turned around. "Awesome."

Meg followed, but not before quickly turning to Dean and giving him a pair of thumbs up. When she caught up to the actor, he glanced over his shoulder and asked, "You coming Jensen?"

Dean smiled a bit and shrugged. "Yeah, why not?"

Misha, at least, he could handle.

**So I got a Beta! Which means that this story won't be 84% spelling mistakes anymore:) and you can all thank ****Izrafel for that3**

**I should probably FYI everyone that Leviathan was just screwing with Dean and he had not in fact started the fire that killed his mother...**

**Hope you enjoy:D**


	10. Chapter 10

Dean was shoveling food into his mouth while Castiel watched him with disgusted fascination. Dean wasn't hungry — the thought of eating anymore was actually a little nauseating — but he needed something to distract him from the way everyone was looking at him. Not at him, actually, but at Castiel. The constant whispering was driving Dean crazy and Castiel was completely oblivious.

"Persephone was doomed to Hades after she ate the fruit of the underworld." Castiel looked down at the mess of neon yellow and mushy macaroni. "Let's hope you don't find yourself in a similar situation."

"Does this table seem wobbly to you?" Dean asked, trying to change the subject, but Castiel only continued to stare at him unblinkingly. Dean shoved another spoonful of noodles into his mouth to stop himself from snapping at Castiel. He drummed his fingers against the table and focused on his plate, refusing to look up at Castiel or the tables around them. Laughter broke out beside them, a mix of Ruby's high voice and Meg's rough giggle. Dean glanced over to his left and saw Luc pointing at Castiel with his fork and whispering something in Meg's ear.

"Mr. Novak." Dr. Hill stood next to the table. "It's time for your session."

"No." Dean slammed his glass down and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "He's staying."

"Mr. Winchester…" Her voice had lost its authoritative edge. She'd messed up and she knew it. If she'd handled the other day's situation better then everyone wouldn't be looking at Castiel right now. "Novak and I really should talk."

"He's not going!" Dr. Hill flinched and looked between Dean and Castiel, who apparently wasn't going to move unless Dean said so. The doctor's walkie-talkie went off and she grabbed it and walked away. "Come on Cas, let's go upstairs."

"Is something wrong?" Dean stood up but Castiel remained seated.

"Just come with me." Ruby snickered next to him and Luc whistled. "I'm leaving. Come, stay, I don't care." He turned and left, flipping off the group next to him on his way out. By the time he reached the stairway he could hear Castiel's footsteps following behind him. He was a little relieved but didn't turn around to acknowledge him. On habit he almost turned to Castiel's room, but he wasn't taking any chances of running into Leviathan. He held the door open to his room for Castiel, who nodded in thanks when he entered.

Dean's room was brighter than Castiel's, free of trees or buildings to block out the sun. Dean had a nice view of dirty pavement. Castiel swiped a finger over Dean's dresser, leaving a streak on the dusty top and making a sour face in response. Dean hadn't seen Leviathan in days, Jimmy was hiding out somewhere in the recesses of Castiel's mind, and Emmanuel was working on an experimental treatment with Chuck that kept him busy. Dean had no idea where the other two were. Castiel was by far the easiest to get along with, so Dean wasn't complaining, but Castiel was always so reserved and covered up that he had no idea if Leviathan had gone back to tearing himself up.

"Take your coat off," he said without thinking.

"Pardon?"

"Just…" Dean reached over and yanked one of Castiel's arms out of its sleeve. Castiel looked confused but didn't stop Dean, letting him take off his coat and pull back the collar of his shirt.

"May I ask what you're doing?"

"I thought you might have some bruises or something…"

"Angels don't bruise." Dean fell back on the bed and sighed. The bruises and gashes on Castiel's body had only just healed, but it meant that he could go back to thinking he was invincible. It was all making Dean feel a little worn out, dealing with everything that kept popping up. He had no idea how Castiel wasn't a blubbering mess after ten years of this.

It wasn't Leviathan's fault, though, and Dean knew that. No matter how messed up and pushy he was, Crowley was the doctor and he shouldn't have given in to a patient's whims. Still, it nagged at the back of his brain and it was just another point in the list of things Leviathan had done. He got the other alters: the normal guy, the righteous angel, the successful doctor, the family man, and the god that kept monsters at bay, but what possible purpose could Leviathan serve?

#%#$

There were only so many card games someone could play, and even gambling the meager change they had didn't add excitement to the game. No one ever did a victory dance over a buck fifty nine. It was getting late — the doctors had gone home, Dean and Castiel had been locked up in Dean's room all night, and the last patient had long since gone to bed, but Luc stayed at the table shuffling cards.

"Deal me in?"

"Detective Henriksen." Luc grinned. "You're late."

"Security and I had a disagreement on whether or not I should keep my gun." The detective sat down across from Luc. "What are you playing?"

"Just shuffling." Luc riffled the cards and clicked his tongue. "Let's cut the pleasantries."

Henriksen watched him shuffling the cards, his hand rested on an empty holster out of habit. "They won't let you attend the funerals."

"No big deal. Those Catholic services, they're all get down on your knees, stand up, sit down." He fanned the cards out in his hand and plucked out the queen of hearts. "Very repetitive."

"You're a real piece of work." Henriksen knocked the cards out of Luc's hand and they splattered across the table. "Your brother's dead and you sit around making jokes."

"What a horrible things to say." Luc placed a hand over his heart. "I'm still in mourning."

"Mourning," Henriksen repeated incredulously. "You know my mama's a Baptist, so I don't know much about Catholics, but it seems to me that adultery and murder are things priests generally stay away from."

"Lilith and I, we never actually got married." Luc clicked his tongue again and pushed his cards into a messy pile. "So technically it wouldn't have been adultery."

"The case has been ruled a murder-suicide. Tomorrow they'll put them both in the ground so whatever you say to me now won't change anything."

"Lilith loved fortune telling. These were her cards." He flipped over the card on the top of the pile and placed it in front of Henriksen. "King of spades, a dark haired man."

"I just want to know why."

"Jack of diamonds, a youth in uniform." He ignored Henriksen question and focused on the cards. "A jealous man, one who brings bad news, misfortune."

"You were out. No matter how bad living with your brother was it couldn't have been worse then being locked up here."

"Seven of hearts, the card of fickle affection."

"You couldn't have possibly thought they would let you live on the outside without a guardian, and Michael was the only family you had. You had a job, a home, a girlfriend, a brother who bent over backwards to give you a life. It was perfect."

Luc studied the fourth card in his hand. "It was. I had everything." He flipped the card around to show Henriksen the ace of spades. "Funny how that wasn't enough."

"I want to hear you say it." Henriksen slammed his hands down on the table.

"Only a real monster would kill his own flesh and blood." Luc laced his fingers together and rested his chin on them. "You must think so little of me."

"Did he suffer? Did you watch your brother choke on his own blood?"

"Oh, I think Michael's been suffering for a long time." He shoved the cards back into the frayed cardboard case. "He's at peace now."

"You should be rotting in a jail cell." Henriksen stood up and stared down at Luc. "We both know you're perfectly sane."

"Goodbye detective." Luc dismissed him and Henriksen realized that he wasn't going to get a straight answer out of Luc. He was just wasting his time hoping to find any remorse.

% #%&

"We shouldn't be here Dean," Castiel whispered, even though no one was there to hear him. "The rules say–"

"Why would an angel follow the rules of Hell?"

"…They wouldn't," he said a little more confidently and followed Dean down the stairs.

"Perfect. I'm starving, you want to rebel against Hell, what an amazing pair we make."

"I'm not rebelling; I was never part of Hell. I am passively protesting."

"Whatever helps you sleep at night."

"I don't sleep either." Dean paused at the door and looked back at Castiel who nearly bumped into him when he reached the bottom step.

"Can't you ever just humor me?" Castiel stared back but didn't answer and Dean finally just gave up and yanked the door open.

"You two should be in bed." Dean jumped back, letting go of the door and it almost swung shut in Luc's face. The blond man stuck a foot out to keep the door open.

"What the hell are you doing down here?" Dean growled and pushed Castiel behind him.

"Just saying goodbye to an old friend." Luc stepped into stairway and leaned against the closed door. "And why are you two wandering about so late at night?"

"Protesting."

"Cas, shush."

"You know I remember when you used to 'protest' with me." Dean turned back to the stairs, inadvertently exposing Castiel to Luc, and before he realized it, Luc had pulled Castiel to him. He wrapped one arm around Castiel's shoulders and used his free hand to cover his mouth.

"Hey!" Dean jumped off the steps but saw the glint of metal in Luc's hand. Luc pressed a jagged edge against the side of Castiel's neck, a broken off leg support from one of the rec room tables.

"Stop moving." Luc hissed in Castiel's ear when he began to struggle. "You scream and you'll both be dead before the nurses get here."

Luc's hand slid down from Castiel's face and slithered around his waist, pulling him tight against him. "You can't kill me Lucifer."

"Well," Luc pushed the sharp edge harder against Castiel's skin, "I guess you have nothing to worry about then."

"Stop!" Dean shouted when he say blood well up against the make-shift blade. "Castiel, he…he found a–a way to kill angels."

Castiel's eyes widened as if he was only just then feeling the pain in his neck. His hands gripped the arm keeping him pinned to Luc but he didn't try to pull away again. Luc chuckled. "Good boy."

"Look, don't be stupid, the security guards are going to be here any second."

"There aren't any cameras in the stairway." Luc glanced around.

"Michael–" Castiel whispered.

"Michael's dead," Luc said flatly. "Lilith too."

"Let him go," Dean bit out.

"I remember when Lilith first got here. Do you believe in love at first sight, Dean?"

"I swear to God–" Dean started, but then Castiel hissed in pain as Luc pressed the blade in deeper.

"She was so sweet, but I had some loose ends to tie up." He ran his tongue over the shell of Castiel's ear. "Leviathan's always been a little clingy."

"Why is everyone talking about the leviathans?" Castiel asked, his voice a little frantic.

"Castiel, just shut up, I'll handle this," Dean snapped.

"So I tell little Miss 'I've been trapped in this poor excuse for a human being' that if he really wanted to be released he'd have to dig himself out." Luc yanked Castiel's shirt free from his pants and pulled it up to show the skin below. Six thin white lines and two puffy pink scars adorned Castiel's stomach. "Doctors had to put him in a coma for two weeks because he kept freaking out and ripping his stitches open. Must've been the last straw, because he hasn't been able to leave his room ever since."

"What's your point?" Dean growled.

"No point," Luc hummed. "He's your problem now."

There was a clang as the jagged metal fell to the ground and Luc shoved Castiel forward. He lost his balance and fell into Dean, the other man grabbing hold of his shoulders and stopping them both from tumbling to the ground. What followed was a flurry of movements, Dean all but tossing Castiel to the ground and lunging at Luc. Suddenly he had Luc pined to the ground, sending punch after punch in a frantic attempt to stop Luc's laughter. Castiel was yelling something at him, trying to force him off the blond man but Luc was still laughing and Dean just couldn't stop. Maybe the judge had been right about Dean.

**This story is now in the double digits awesome! I'm very excited for the next few chapters, lots of things happening. I actually wrote a one shot of Leviathan's first few weeks after being admitted and I'm going to post it on my Livejournal account but not for a while since it would ruin the plot a bit...Next chapter is going to be kinda dark and also Dean's going to start dealing with side effects of medication.**

**Hope you enjoy! I love reviews 3**


	11. Chapter 11

**Warning!: reference to past non-con, it's not very descriptive but thought I'd give you a heads up.**

Dean wiped the rough washcloth against his bloody knuckles and tried not to flinch under Pam's intense stare. "You're lucky this happened after all the doctors left."

"Yeah, must be the rabbit foot I carry around," Dean snorted and tossed the dirty rag onto his bed.

"If it was anyone other then Luc I'd have reported you and sent you off to a jail cell." Dean lied back on his bed, staring up at the ceiling. Pam was silent, waiting for a thank you that she wasn't going to get. "I can only guess at what he did to make you snap, but Novak's claiming you were protecting him, so I'm going to cover this up."

"Whatever." Dean didn't want to talk about it—he just wanted to be left alone. The room was already small enough without her standing so close. Finally, Pam had enough of his silence and left, nearly running into Castiel when she opened the door. She mumbled something to Castiel as she passed by him but Dean couldn't hear it, and he didn't really care enough to pay attention. Castiel nodded and entered the room, gently shutting the door behind him and moving to stand next to Dean's bed.

Dean hardly even spared him a glance, only looking at him long enough to see the bandage that stuck to the side of his neck. It covered a small cut that had healed enough that it didn't ooze out blood. Dean remembered it being bigger, a large gash that leaked blood down Castiel's pale skin, but it was barely even a scratch.

"I don't like what you're becoming."

"You don't even know me." Dean turned onto his side and curled in on himself. He probably looked like a stubborn child, but he just needed to be alone.

"You're a good man."

"Leave me alone."

"Dean–"

"Just go," he snapped. Castiel didn't move, just continued to stand by Dean's bed like he expected him to roll over and apologize. It was ten agonizingly long minutes before Castiel finally got the hint and left, though Dean had the feeling he was waiting by the door. It was only then that Dean realized he hadn't taken his meds that night, and that he had a long night of either insomnia or nightmares to look forward to. Dean was starting to think he might actually be in Hell.

#^%$%

"Nurse Barnes has recommended that I add fluoxetine to your drug regime." Dr. Hill slipped her glasses off and placed them on the table. "Why do you think she would do that?"

"I don't really care."

"I have a feeling it might have something to do with Mr. Milton's broken nose."

"I thought doctors were more cold hard facts and less guess work."

Dr. Hill pursed her lips and pushed her glasses back on. "Is there anything you'd like to talk about?"

"Nothing I want to discuss with you."

"Very well," she said coldly. "Your sessions over. I'll be adding fluoxetine to your morning and evening medication."

Dean probably should've avoided going to the rec room; he'd already laid quite the beating on Luc, but somehow it didn't feel like enough. He couldn't deny the flicker of joy he got seeing the bandage taped across Luc's nose and the way he cringed every time he tried to smile. "Guess you're not so cocky now."

"I don't know," Luc eyes locked in on Meg and Ruby who sat next to him on the couch, "women love a man with battle scars."

"Here's the deal." Dean snapped his fingers to get Luc's attention. "You're going to stay away from Castiel–in fact, stay away from _all of them_, because if I catch you within five feet of him I'll break a lot more than just your nose."

"What? I was under the impression that I inadvertently walked into a door during the night." Luc tilted his head in an attempt to look confused.

"Enough with the bullshit," Dean growled. His hands were already clenched into fists and he only then realized what a shitty idea confronting Luc was. A cough rang out behind him and he turned to find Melissa nervously tugging on a strand of hair.

"He wants to see you." Melissa didn't have to say who _he_ was; Dean only had to look around the room to realize that Castiel wasn't there and that there was probably a pissy sea monster lurking around upstairs.

"I'd rather cut my tonsils out with a rusty butter knife."

"He thought you might say that…" She trailed off and stepped over to Luc. "He said that if you're still interested–"

"Sit back down," Dean snapped at Luc as he started to rise from the couch. "I'm going."

He stomped up the stairs, blood still pumping from talking to Luc, and he had to take a deep breath to steady himself once he reached the door to prepare himself for whatever mood Leviathan was in. He found him sitting on the floor at the end up the bed, a copy of _Moby Dick_ held up to his face.

"This better be important." Leviathan glanced up at Dean and dropped the book on the floor. He reached under the bed and pulled out a pen, then ripped a page out of the book. He scribbled something on the torn paper and handed it to Dean, who read the single word _Sorry_ scrawled across the note. "What is this?"

"I'm willing to say that out loud if it would make you feel better."

"I am _not_ in a good mood today."

"I think I might have crossed some sort of line last time."

"You think?" Dean snorted.

"You said you would visit. It was part of the deal, but you haven't been." Dean had never seen someone menacingly click a pen before, but when Leviathan did it, Dean was suddenly presented with the mental image of him stabbing it into his own neck.

"You can't just threaten people when you don't get what you want."

"I didn't threaten anyone," Leviathan protested, tossing the pen over his shoulder.

"This isn't a game."

"Of course not." Leviathan climbed to his feet but still kept his distance from Dean. "Though if it was, I'd be winning."

"You have issues, man." Dean tossed his fake apology in the trash can. "Were you always so goddamned crazy?"

"No, I was fairly normal at one point." Leviathan flopped down on the bed.

"So what happened?"

"You wouldn't understand," he huffed.

"Try me."

"The angels…" Dean nearly groaned. There were far too many angels and demons in his life now. "They were always trying to trick me. They would call me by the wrong name, they gave me presents and hugged me like I would just forget that I wasn't human. They told me I was born April 1st, so I wouldn't remember about Lent, but I played along."

Leviathan picked up one of his pillows from the bed and held it tight to himself, like a child hugging a stuffed animal. Dean tried to keep with Leviathan's train of thought—he was always getting off topic or saying things that only made sense to him. "That doesn't explain anything."

"It was my ninth birthday, at least that was the lie they told everyone, but I had other birthdays, a _lot_ of other birthdays…they were nice, Gabriel always bought me a new book and my mom would bake a cake that was half chocolate and half vanilla." The pillow muffled Leviathan's voice and he must have realized it because he stuck his chin out and rested it against the top of the fluffy pillow. "We were going out to dinner and I wanted to wear my new suit because dad said we were going somewhere fancy. I had left it at my grandparent's house though, and my mom was going to drive me there, but I told her I wasn't a little kid anymore and I could go myself. I _begged_ her, I said it was only a few blocks away and that I'd call her when I got there."

Leviathan's eyes where glued to the empty bed in front of him. He didn't look at Dean and that was unnerving, because Leviathan was _always_ looking at Dean. Whatever Leviathan was telling him seemed unimportant, the story of a kid's birthday that was only a little off because he thought his family was made up of undercover angels. But Dean knew there was more just by the way Leviathan's voice wavered, the way his hands fidgeted and the hunched posture of a man that always carried himself with confidence. Dean grabbed the chair, sat down, and waited for the rest.

"She told me not to go through the woods, even though there was a shortcut. She said the woods were dangerous. But when I was walking back home it started to rain, and I had already changed into my suit even though my grandma told me not to. The woods were so thick I figured I wouldn't get as wet if I went through them and that mom would never have to know."

Dean didn't snap at Leviathan when he bit his lip; it wasn't hard and didn't draw blood so Dean brushed it off as nervous habit. Leviathan had stopped talking, his eyes glazed over. Dean reached over and put a hand on his knee, trying to show that he was listening. He felt the muscles beneath his hand tighten and could tell that Leviathan wanted to pull away. The man that was always pulling people closer suddenly didn't want to be touched.

"I knew them from school, the boys in the woods. They were bullies, but they– they'd never so much as looked at me before." Dean snatched his hand away and Leviathan finally looked up at him. He saw Dean's confused look and cringed and Dean wanted to tell him it was okay, but he couldn't find it in himself to speak. "Zack said I thought I was better than everyone because I was a Novak, he said just because my parents had money didn't mean I was worth shit.

"I told him they couldn't hurt me, that God wouldn't let them, and Tom laughed and told me to go ahead and call Him, it wasn't go to change anything."

"Lev," Dean tried to reach for him again but his hand hovered above his leg, "you don't have to tell me anything you don't want to. I get it– you can stop."

"No." Leviathan shook his head but he gripped the pillow tighter. "I can do this."

"Okay." Dean nodded and leaned back in the chair. Honestly, he didn't want to hear anymore, he didn't want to _know_ anymore, he didn't want to have to comprehend what would've had to happen for someone to end up like Leviathan. "Okay, keep going, I'll listen."

"I thought…I thought they wanted to ruin my suit, they kept talking about ripping my clothes off and taking turns and I didn't– I didn't know what that meant." Leviathan's eyes turned an angry red and welled with tears but he tried to blink them away. "Gil said I was really pretty, almost like a girl…then they– they– they–"

Leviathan shoved his face into the pillow, hiding the tears that suddenly burst from his eyes. Dean froze in his chair and watched as heavy sobs shook Leviathan, a heavy feeling of disgust settling in his stomach, twisting around his nerves and starting an angry fire. He almost left because he didn't want Leviathan to think he was mad at him but he needed to hit something. Then Leviathan sobbed his name and all that melted away. He climbed onto the bed and pulled Leviathan against him. Shaky arms wrapped around him and Leviathan cried into his shoulder, soaking his shirt with tears.

"I fought, I really did, but by the time it got to Zack's turn I couldn't… I couldn't fight anymore." Dean shushed him when he started to choke on his own tears, rubbing slow circles against his back. Leviathan curled up in Dean's lap, his arms holding him so tightly it almost hurt, but it wasn't over yet. He told Dean everything, his voice soft and broken and every other sentence was stopped by a sniffle. He told Dean how bad it hurt, not just physically, told him how his insides hurt so unimaginably that one day he couldn't take it anymore and tried to kill himself. He told him about how protective his parents got, that he didn't leave the house for nearly two full years and that is was always so dark he thought sunlight might burn him. Then about how the doctors tried to fix him, how they strapped him to a table and shocked him until his eyes rolled back into his head and he started convulsing.

It got worse and worse and Leviathan didn't stop until he had cried himself to sleep in Dean's arms. There wasn't even an ending, Leviathan just couldn't go on anymore. Dean managed to wiggle out of Leviathan's grasp without waking him up. He slipped off his plaid button-up and laid it over Leviathan's shoulders. The sun was already setting and Dean couldn't believe how long he had spent there, just listening to Leviathan describe what it takes to make a monster. Dean cringed when he thought _monster_, because Dean couldn't imagine _anyone_ walking away from that normal.

He left quietly, making sure not to disturb Leviathan, and snuck off to the phones downstairs. He dialed Sam's number and used his last quarter, and then listened to it ring over and over. Dean wasn't sure that anyone was going to pick up.

"Hello," Jessica answered in a cheery voice.

"Put Sam on the phone."

"Dean?" Jessica asked, and when she got no reply he heard her put the phone down and call for her husband.

"Dean, is everything okay?" Sam's voice was already laced with worry and Dean hadn't even said anything to him yet.

"No Sammy, it really isn't." Dean looked over his shoulder to make sure no one was in hearing distance before he went on. Dean realized that instantly going off and telling Leviathan's secret was probably a shitty move but Dean had no idea how he was supposed to handle what he just heard. So Dean told him everything, leaving out anything too graphic, but it still seemed to stun Sam to silence, only making little _uh-huh_ sounds whenever there was a long stretch of silence. "So with his mom dead everyone was too depressed to take care of his baby sister and then when they found out she was mentally disabled–"

"Dean, hold on," Sam interrupted.

"It gets even worse."

"No," Sam sighed, "trust me, it all has a happy ending."

$% #

Dean nearly kicked Leviathan's door open, which wasn't so bad since his alternative was ripping the door off it's hinges so that Leviathan would never show up again. The noise riled Leviathan from sleep and he smiled up at Dean, pulling the plaid shirt tighter around himself. It took every ounce of Dean's dwindling self control to stop himself from screaming at Leviathan, but the other man was able to see the rage radiating off Dean. He went straight for the top drawer of the dresser, where he knew Leviathan kept his books, and began to pick them up and toss them onto the floor. Leviathan made a sound of protest but Dean ignored it and continued searching until he picked up a large black paperback book with a young blonde girl on the cover.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"I don't know what you're talking about." Leviathan pushed himself up and folded up Dean's shirt.

"Everything you said was a V.C. Andrews book," Dean growled. "My sister-in-law just finished reading it."

"You told someone about it?" Leviathan asked, as if Dean had wronged him instead of the other way around.

"Why would you lie about something like that?"

"Sometimes the truth is worse then lying."

"What could be worse than a nine-year-old getting gang-banged?"

Leviathan hesitated, glancing up and down Dean's body then over to the book strewn across the floor. "My dad, the angel that posed as my dad, he…well, I'm sure you can guess what he did. And he did it every chance he got. He bought me a car to keep me quiet, but I started acting out, getting into fights, sleeping around, and breaking the law. My mom sent me to live with my grandmother in Utah-"

"That's the plot of Georgia Rule." Dean threw the book at Leviathan, hitting him square in the chest. A loudmouth red head had convinced Dean to take her to see the movie years ago when it first came out, and the movie had been even more disappointing than the mediocre sex that came after.

"…I may need time to come up with another story."

"Screw you!" Dean shouted. He turned and left despite Leviathan telling him to wait. Behind the door a crowd had gathered. Meg and Becky had pressed their ears against the door and almost crashed into Dean when he opened it. Dean was seconds away from strangling someone; there was absolutely no privacy in this whole building and Dean had never been so eager to douse himself with sleeping pills.

**Happy Canada's Day or Fourth of July to my North American readers, to celebrate I wrote a chapter full of lies and deception :). Some of you might have noticed that I don't use brand names for any of the drugs given out. I did this for a reason because the side effects kinda play an important role in the story and I figured people might be less likely to guess at them. **

**Anyways hope you enjoy :D please review!**


	12. Chapter 12

"I think he hates me," Leviathan frowned.

"That's probably a good conclusion," Luc agreed. Leviathan sighed and tucked his head beneath Luc's chin, and soon he felt the other man's fingers card through his hair.

"I'm still not having sex with you."

"I'm not sure I like your new found self control." Luc pulled out from under Leviathan and kneeled over him. Leviathan shifted on the bed moving up to lie against a pillow and keep his weary gaze on Luc. "I have something for you."

"I don't like surprises."

"It's good, trust me," Luc assured him. He reached into his back pocket and pulled out the broken metal that was still stained with Castiel's blood.

"_Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it_."

"Poe?" Luc guessed.

"Dumbledore," Leviathan corrected, snatching the dirty shiv from Luc's hand and scratching off the dried blood with his nail. "You can leave now."

#$^%^

Dean stood at the door. Knocking seemed too formal, but just walking in seemed too familiar. Group was in twenty minutes, which was perfect, because then Dean would have a reason to get out of _here_ as soon as possible. He opened the door and stepped inside, quickly shutting it to keep out any unwanted psychos. Leviathan slammed his book shut, looking up at Dean with surprise. He looked just on the wrong side of guilty, like he'd been caught flipping through a porn magazine. Leviathan tried to say something but was quickly cut off by Dean. "Shut up."

"I–"

"Seriously, be quiet."

"You've been talking to Luc." Leviathan's eyes narrowed and he cradled the book protectively against his chest. "Well you can't have it, it's _mine_."

"I don't want your stupid book."

"My book?" Leviathan questioned. Dean motioned to the object Leviathan clung onto for dear life. "Oh yeah, my book, you can't have that either."

"Whatever, just shut up and listen." Dean pulled the chair by Leviathan's bed and sat down. "New rules."

"But–" Leviathan started, but one sharp look from Dean and he stopped.

"No more lying, no more purposefully trying to piss me off, you understand?"

Leviathan nodded and then added, "Yes."

"No more Luc," Dean said firmly.

"Why don't you just buy me a chastity belt?" Leviathan snorted.

"No more Luc," Dean repeated.

Leviathan made a face and drummed his fingers against the hard cover of his book. "And what do I get out of this new arrangement?"

"Nothing. This is the same deal as before, just with more rules."

"Any what if I don't like these new rules?"

Dean shrugged and leaned back in the chair. "Then opt-out."

"What?"

"I'm not making you do anything. You don't want to hold up your end, then I'll just stop coming by."

"Oh, I don't think you'd stay away long." Leviathan dropped the book back into his lap, lifting the cover up half-way, so that it hid the insides from Dean, and running his fingers over the smooth edge of the hollowed out book. On top of trinkets and old photographs laid the make-shift knife, scrubbed clean of any trace of Castiel or anyone else Luc might have used it on.

"Look, I don't care if you start cutting your fingers off one by one," Dean lied. "Once I walk out that door, I'm not coming back, so it doesn't really matter what you do to yourself."

Leviathan looked at Dean, caught off guard by the comment. He studied him and Dean was worried he might call his bluff. "I'd still have Luc."

"Luc, Melissa, Gabriel, I'm sure you'll have lots of company."

Leviathan looked back inside his book and Dean held his breath—this was where Leviathan either called him on his bullshit or bought the lie. Leviathan sighed and gently closed his book before looking back to Dean. "Okay."

"Great," Dean said, still trying to play it cool. "I have to go, but I'll see you tomorrow."

He stood up and kicked the chair back over to where he found it. Everything had gone rather smoothly considering Dean was dealing with the most unstable person he'd ever met.

"Dean, wait."

Dean paused at the door and glanced back over at Leviathan, who tapped his fingers contemplatively against the dull yellow cover. He ran his tongue along his bottom lip and nodded to himself before holding the book out to Dean. "Take it."

"Uh, I'm not really much of a reader."

"You should take it, trust me." Dean looked down at the cover, managing to read the title upside down: _Scouts in Bondage._

"Yeah, I think I'll pass." Leviathan's lips spread into a grin, wicked and amused, matching exactly the look he had when they first met. He shoved the book under his pillow and shot one last grin at Dean before he motioned for him to leave.

"Tomorrow," Leviathan confirmed, Dean nodded and left Leviathan behind as he headed off to group.

&#$%&

Every other session, Dean's doctor would ask him if he's still sleeping regularly, and every time, he answers that he was. It was a complete lie, but Dean didn't want to risk having his meds increased—he was just so sick and tired of the headaches and stomach aches. So he could handle the lack of sleep. Besides, it's not like he ever spent it alone.

"I have bad news," Castiel declared, barging into Dean's room uninvited at two a.m. Dean was already awake but it was certainly too early to be handing out bad news.

"And it can't wait 'til tomorrow?"

"I came as soon as Candice told me."

"Man, you talked to her hours ago." Dean pushed the threadbare covers off and stretched out any last traces of sleep.

"No, it was only a few moments ago." Dean groaned, then, remembering that Dr. Hill had said something that made Misha show up and convince everyone to play clue.

"Okay, I'm listening," Dean yawned.

"Michael is dead."

"Oh." Dean waited for Castiel to continue, but instead he just looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "He was Luc's brother, right?"

"He was an archangel. He foolishly thought that he could save Lucifer, but it obviously did not go the way he intended." Dean sunk down to the floor and patted the space next to him to tell Castiel to join him. He didn't really care all that much about Luc and his probably incredibly screwed up family, but Castiel looked like he had just delivered news about a dead puppy. "I believe I understand your purpose now."

"Yeah?"

"You're Michael's new vessel."

"Awesome?"

"When the time comes that Michael must battle Lucifer, he will do so in your body."

"Yeah, I'd actually like to limit the amount of guys I let into my body," Dean cringed. "Preferably to zero."

The double entendre was lost on Castiel, who put a hand on Dean's shoulder and shot him another look full of pity. The gesture caught Dean a little off guard—for all of Castiel's refusal to respect people's personal space, he usually had as little physical contact as possible. "Dean, if you are Michael's vessel, then Sam is meant to be Lucifer's true vessel as well."

"Sammy kinda finished experimenting with men in collage."

"This is serious." Castiel's hand dropped back into his lap when Dean continued to joke. "You are destined to drive a sword through your brother's heart."

Dean tried to care, he really did, but none of what Castiel said actually effected him because none of it was real. Just like he didn't care about chick flicks and the story plots of WWF because all of it was made up.

"You don't care." There was that _I have failed you and you are mere steps away from becoming a demon_ look that Castiel got every time Dean didn't act the way he wanted.

"I do care."

Castiel looked away from Dean, then back at him and away again. He was struggling with something, and Dean was prepared for another lecture on the power of evil when Castiel finally found the words he wanted to say. "Candice's alliances are wavering. It is unfortunate that she chose to fall with Satan but it is possible that she could regain her Grace."

"I think Candice is a bitch who gets off from ordering people around."

"That's possible, though not the point." Castiel smoothed out the wrinkles in his coat. "I am only pointing out that, if you feel uncomfortable talking to me, there are others that can be trusted as well."

"What?" Dean shifted to face Castiel. "I pretty much tell you everything Cas."

"I find that doubtful." He looked out the window, into the night sky glowing with street lights. "Something is bothering you."

"Look, if I wanted to get in touch with my emotions I'd talk to Emmanuel."

"I don't expect you to tell me every little detail of your past but I am here to help you. You can trust me."

"I _don't_ want to talk about it," Dean reiterated

"You would feel better if you let it out," Castiel persisted.

Dean rolled his eyes. He knew Castiel wasn't going to let it go, but Dean wasn't going to discuss what brought him there. He left the war in Afghanistan and if Sam couldn't get the truth out of him, there was no way Cas could. But enough had happened in the last few weeks that he could fill a whole book. "I don't know, it's just…"

"Go on," Cas urged.

"I'm locked up here with no time to myself, people are in my face almost twenty-four-seven trying to get me to open up or shove pills down my throat. Jessica is about ready to pop and there's no way I'm going to be out in time to be there when my nephew's born."

Castiel nodded sympathetically, letting Dean continue instead of reminding him he wasn't actually living in a hospital. "Luc pissed off the only normal person in here so I haven't talked to him in days. Then of course Lev's either trying to drive me crazy or get into my pants."

"Oh." Castiel shifted uncomfortably at the mention of sex but tried offering some advice. "Perhaps you should limit the amount of time you spend alone with Lev."

"I get the feeling he doesn't mind there being an audience."

"…he?" Castiel went still beside Dean, his brows shooting up and his jaw dropping open. "You're a sodomite."

"A what?"

"I was wrong about you." Castiel face turned into near panic before it melted into pure disgust at the man in front of him. "Perhaps you can't be saved."

"Whoa, hold up, what are you talking about?"

"Homosexuals burn in hell," he said bluntly.

"Hey now, I'm not–"

"I should have known." Castiel eyes narrowed and he looked Dean up and down. "Just look at how you dress."

"He came on to me!" Dean insisted. He chose to ignore the dirty implications Castiel had made about his wardrobe and instead tried to figure out how they got into this argument.

"You all feed off each other, slaves to your unnatural desires." Castiel began to slowly inch away from Dean, like any sudden movements might make Dean pounce on him and take him right on the floor. "You're sick."

"I'm not the one that's gay."

"Are you implying that I am?" Castiel came close to snarling. "The last time a man accosted me, the Lord sent fire and brimstone to rain down upon their city."

"Calm down, Cas." Dean put his hand on Castiel's shoulder to keep him from standing up. He instantly knew it was a mistake when Castiel stiffened against his hold, his lip drawing up to threaten him with sharp teeth.

"Get. Your. Hand. Off. Of. Me."

"Okay, I'm sorry. I'm not trying to…accost you or whatever." Dean's hand dropped back to his side and he moved away from Castiel to show him he meant him no harm. "I'm still your, uh, righteous man."

"Michael would not have chosen a sodomite as his vessel…" Castiel said slowly, in a way that made Dean think he didn't completely believe him but was trying to rationalize his delusion. "I'm sorry. I may have over reacted."

"It's fine."

"I'm embarrassed."

"Let's just never bring it up again." Dean eyed Castiel warily. He seemed to be back to his usual awkwardly indifferent self but seconds ago he was looking at Dean like he was a cockroach that just crawled over his food. Dean had already figured out that you weren't supposed to mention sex or anything related to it to Castiel, but he had come pretty close to hyperventilating. Dean still needed a rule book to the many personalities, but Jimmy was still a no show.

Dean really should have just asked for more sleeping pills.

**So Leviathan's month dead line is coming up, hopefully no one gets stabbed before then.**


	13. Chapter 13

"Slow down," Dr. Hill asked, trying frantically to write out her notes as fast as Dean was talking.

"We thought we had gotten them all but by the time we got there the bomb had already gone off."

"Hold on, hold on." She quickly flipped to another page, her handwriting messy and scrambled.

Dean snorted. "I _finally_ start talking and you can't even keep up."

"I just…" Her glasses slipped off her face and tumbled onto the desk, but she paid it little attention as her pen danced across the notepad. "Terrorist, murder, screaming, sandstorm, fire, bullets, bullets, bullets."

"Okay, calm down, I was the one in the Tangi not you."

The doctor's eyes snapped up to Dean and the pen slowed to a halt. "Helmand, you were stationed in Helmand."

"I obviously went to more than one camp." Dean argued.

"But your file says…" She reached over for the brown folder but nearly jumped out of her seat when the high-pitched ring of an egg timer went off. In all the time Dean had been having sessions with the doctor, they had never lasted long enough for the alarm to sound. "I guess we're done."

Dean walked out before she could say anything else and the doctor set out to get her notes together before her next patient came. Melissa was sitting outside the door, doodling on a scrap piece of paper and barely glanced at Dean before she clicked her tongue and pointed to the stairs. "He's upset, you should talk to him."

Instinctively Dean went up to see Leviathan, but the room was empty, so that meant that someone else was going insane. He went over to his own room instead, finding Cas passing back and forth, muttering to himself and clearly looking upset. "Hey, you okay?"

"Meg, that demon whore," Castiel spit out.

"What'd she do?"

"She touched me."

"I know you're not a huge fan of Meg, but–"

"Dean, she _touched me_," Castiel emphasized, then looked away, his expression caught between embarrassment and rage. "Then she propositioned me."

"Oh."

"The absolute filth that poured out of her mouth, the very fact that she thought I would degrade myself by–"

"Okay, remember that conversation we had about overreacting?"

"Do you know what they do to fornicators in Hell?" Castiel asked and then answered his own questioned before Dean could speak. "They're roasted in fire that burns as hot as their own revolting passion."

"Why is it that every time someone upsets you they end up burning in the fires of Hell?"

"I don't make the rules, Dean," Castiel huffed. Dean shrugged and fell back on his bed. There was no point arguing with Castiel or else he'd risk having something in his room being smashed into pieces. "I know it's difficult for you understand this. Having led a chaste life on Earth and now being trapped among all these vile–"

"Whoa, you think I'm a virgin?" Apparently, to Castiel, there were only two types of people: virgins and sex crazed perverts.

"There's no need to be embarrassed," Castiel assured him. "Your purity is necessary to your role as Michael's vessel. And when you have been freed from the prison of Hell, I will remake your body without the stain of sin it was created in."

Dean was pretty sure Castiel had just insulted his mother, but he brushed it off because he didn't want to get in another argument with Cas. "Listen, why don't you go to your room and wait for me there."

"But–"

"Make sure you close the door to uh, keep the demons out." Castiel pursed his lips, but nodded and left Dean alone. Dean rubbed a hand over his eyes and waited a few seconds before he headed out too, going downstairs to spend a few minutes with Sam before he dragged himself back up the stairs to occupy Leviathan's time.

Jessica hadn't brought pie, which sucked, but she grabbed his hand and put it on her swollen stomach and he got to feel his nephew kick. It wasn't a very long visit; they had a doctor's appointment later that night to get to, but it was nice and Sam gave him an ultrasound picture, so at least now he had something personal to put in his depressingly empty room.

He grabbed two plates of food on the way back upstairs. He wasn't sure if Leviathan ate, but without Jimmy around he figured he should try and get one of the alters to eat. Leviathan hadn't bothered to change out of Castiel's clothes, tossing only the trench coat on the ground. He was on his back, staring up the ceiling and looking completely bored out of his mind. Dean used his foot to kick the door closed and Leviathan stood up to greet him, only to turn a suspicious eye on the food he held.

"Here," Dean offered, holding the egg sandwich out to Leviathan. He stared at it like it was some foreign object, and Dean was sure it must have been the first sandwich he had ever seen.

"I'm allergic."

"Oh, okay." Dean held out the meaty sandwich instead, feeling a small amount of grief about passing up the good sandwich.

"I'm allergic to that too."

"Are you actually?"

There was a long pause before Leviathan finally grumbled, "No." He snatching the plate from Dean and dropped down to the floor. Dean sat down with him, ignoring that Leviathan couldn't last a full twenty-four hours before he slipped back into his nasty lying habit.

Leviathan took the top slice of bread off his sandwich and wiped it against the edge of his plate, scrapping off the generous amount of butter onto the stiff paper. He dropped the bread back on the plate and moved the soggy piece of lettuce onto it, grabbing the cheese slice and putting it on Dean's plate, then picking up the slices of meat. He lifted the thin, cheap slice of mortadella and poked out the circles of fat till his meat looked like swiss cheese instead. Then he wiped off any mayonnaise on his plate as well before he finally put his sandwich back together and deemed it edible. At this point Dean was done already ¾ of the way done with his lunch.

"Do you have a knife?"

"Yeah, like I'm going to give _you_ a knife." Dean shoved the last of his food in his mouth and handed Leviathan his plastic fork. Leviathan used the feeble plastic to slice through his sandwich cutting it in half over and over till it was cut up into more than a dozen tiny pieces. Then he counted the pieces and when he found an odd number he cut one of the squares in half. "Are you actually going to eat that?"

Leviathan hummed and picked up one of the morsels. "I don't like eating in front of people."

"Well at least you _do_ eat." Leviathan's face scrunched up like Dean had just insulted him and he dropped the small square back on the plate. "Just eat it, Lev."

Finally Leviathan popped a piece into his mouth and Dean watched as he chewed the small bit for nearly ten minutes before he finally swallowed. "My name's Leviathan."

"You don't like when I call you Lev?"

Leviathan didn't answer at first. Dean had to wait for him to finish chewing—he could practically hear him counting to an imaginary number that meant his food was properly broken down. "Not particularly. I'm not six years old."

"You sound just like Sammy."

Leviathan's head tilted when Dean mentioned his brother. He shoved one last piece of food past his lips then pushed the plate over to Dean. "I'm done."

"You ate like two percent of the sandwich."

"I haven't eaten in nearly ten years, Dean. I think this was a good start."

$&#*^

Sometime after lunch Dean remembered that Gabriel was probably waiting downstairs for Castiel. He managed to convince Leviathan to try and walk through the door, which led to an argument and following orders from 'God' and at some point on the stairway Emmanuel started talking to Dean about the importance of following his med regime. Eventually he managed to lure Castiel out just as they walked into the rec room, finding Gabriel and a blond girl with bug eye sunglasses sitting on the couch.

"Rachel?" Dean could guess by Castiel's expression that he hadn't been expecting her.

"Hey, cous." She slipped off her oversized glasses, stood up, and smiled, a wild grin that Dean was starting to recognize always meant bad news. Rachel stretched her arm back, and before Castiel had a chance to move away, she slapped her hand hard across Castiel's cheek, the sound ringing through the room and letting everyone know something was going on. Castiel touched his fingers to his cheek, a red mark already forming, and looked at the small girl in front of him, brows drawn in confusion, but not saying anything to her. Rachel looked mildly disappointed and stepped closer to Castiel. "Strange, that usually works."

She raised her hand again, but before she could hit Castiel, Gabriel grabbed it and pulled her back. "Stop doing that."

"But–"

"That hasn't worked in _years_." Gabriel dropped her hand but stepped between her and Castiel just in case. "And even if it did work, Leviathan's really not the person you want to have this conversation with."

"Whatever," she grumbled and side stepped around Gabriel. Castiel remained silent with his hand pressed against his cheek and his eyes darting between Gabriel and Rachel.

"Why are you here, Rachel?"

Rachel made a sour face, briefly glancing over at Dean before locking eyes again with her cousin. "My therapist said I should come here, said I can't 'move on' with my life until I learn to forgive and forget."

"What–"

"But you know, on my way over here I just started thinking about how much I still _hate_ you from the bottom of my twisted little heart."

"I'm sorry you feel that way." The sting in his cheek must have started to subside, because he dropped his hand down.

"Don't get all high and mighty, Cassie."

"You chose to fall, Rachel, don't blame me for your decision."

Rachel let out chuckle, but the fake cheer behind it wasn't enough to cover up the bitterness. "You're not an angel. Hell, you're barely even a man."

"Watch it," Gabriel warned, but Rachel ignored him.

"So why do you get to be the big bad angel and I end up the pathetic ex-angel?" Her voice was starting to get loud, and there weren't just the patients staring now—the staff was starting to get curious too.

"Okay." Gabriel tugged on Rachel's arm but she remained firm in place. "This is getting out of hand."

"I can't believe you're taking his side!" Rachel cried, whipping her head around to glare at her other cousin.

"I'm not taking anyone's side, but I'm not going to just stand here and let a hooker scream at my brother."

"How dare you!" Rachel shouted, ripping her arm out of Gabriel's grasp. "I have a husband."

"You have a sixty-five year-old sugar daddy," Gabriel corrected. "And he's waiting for you downstairs."

"Rachel, I'm afraid I don't understand what has upset you." Castiel seemed to be trying to calm her down, but his comment just made her angrier.

"I haven't seen you in twenty years and you're still the exact same." She looked him up and down, then shook her head. "You're just like your father."

"We're leaving." Gabriel grabbed her and pulled her away from Castiel before she could say anything else. Rachel struggled in his hold, but he didn't let her break free of his grip this time. He dragged her towards the door but only managed a few feet before she started screaming. At that point the security guard had made his way to the floor and was walking towards Rachel and Gabriel, ready to take her away.

"Inias is dead!" she yelled. Gabriel stopped in his tracks and his shock gave Rachel a chance to break free and turn back to Castiel. "He killed himself. My little brother is dead and it is_ all your fault_."

"Inias…" Castiel trailed off, looking confused. Dean guessed that if this chick was an angel, then her brother must be, too, and angels weren't supposed to die.

"You know, I get that what happened wasn't completely your fault, but the fact that you act like a victim is absolutely laughable." Rachel's eyes burned red but she took a deep breath and held back her tears. "There's three of you! What's the point of having different people living in your head if they're all cowards?"

"Rachel–"

"I don't want your excuses!" She screamed and Gabriel was on her before she could attempt to scratch Castiel's face off. He handed her off to the security guard, who had to literally pick her up when she started to fight tooth and nail to get out of his grip. Gabriel watched his cousin get dragged into the elevator before turning back to his brother, looking apologetically at the red welt on his cheek.

"I'm sorry Castiel, I shouldn't have–bringing her here was a mistake."

"What was she talking about?" In the face of Castiel's blank look, Gabriel's usual cockiness seemed to melt away, and Dean could see the pain behind his eyes that stung like an open sore.

"I…nothing, Castiel. It's not important." Gabriel quickly shuffled out of the room, like he couldn't wait to get out of there but didn't want to let Castiel know he was upset.

"That was unusual." Castiel was practically the only one in the room not stunned to silence, even though he had been the one seconds away from having his eyes scratched out. And to him, everything was back to normal, even when everyone was staring at him. Castiel gave a quick glance around the room and then headed over to the cafeteria, telling Dean he wanted to try eating.

Before they left, Dean saw Luc lean over and whisper something into Meg's ear, the brunette's eyes widening and looking over at Castiel as he walked out. A sane person might have stayed and demanded Luc to tell him everything he knew, but Dean was crazy nowadays, so he just followed Castiel.


	14. Chapter 14

"What's a way of saying I love you," Misha looked up from the note pad in his lap, "that's both sweet and kind of sexy?"

"Stop sending her letters, Misha," Dean groaned, stretching out on the couch and throwing an arm over his eyes. He was way too tired for this. "She's just going to get another restraining order."

"Yeah, isn't she funny?" Misha sighed dreamily. "What rhymes with breasts?"

"Dude, I'm not helping you write anymore dirty poems."

"I don't like poetry." Meg leaned over, reading the words Misha had scribbled out. "Put up or shut up, as far as I'm concerned."

"You have to keep the romance alive, especially with our busy work schedules." Misha ripped the sheet of paper off, crumpling it up and tossing it over his shoulder. "There will be plenty of baby-making time when the season ends."

Dean decided this was a good time to start ignoring Misha, who was now making a second attempt at writing his 'wife' a poem. Dean didn't like poetry much to begin with, so sappy (and horribly explicit) love poems written by stalkers was way above his pay-grade. "I'm getting a little sick of it being all Misha, all the time."

"Yeah, three days of Señor Twitter is a bit much," Ruby sighed. Misha continued writing, oblivious of the two talking about him. "Wouldn't mind if Mr. Master of the Universe made an appearance."

"I'm just waiting for Jimmy to come back around."

"Jimmy's been coming down for breakfast, like, everyday," Meg said. A second later she pointed to one of the words in Misha's poem. "Rimming has two M's."

"Seriously?" Dean asked, steadfastly ignoring Meg's correction.

"Yeah, he comes down at the crack of down to grab some toast and then runs back upstairs and locks himself in his room. Guess he'd rather have Leviathan running the show." She tossed the apple core that she'd been gnawing on into the trash. "Wouldn't have even known myself if I didn't have to get up so early for my meds."

"Why the hell didn't you mention this before?"

"Because you never asked." Meg turned to Ruby, an incredulous look on her face. "You have to be a mind reader to please this guy."

$#$^$#

It was five o'clock in the morning and Dean had finally found the plus side to his insomnia. He'd been sitting outside Castiel's room waiting for Jimmy for six hours, and if he wasn't physically unable to fall asleep, he would have passed out long before; sitting in a pitch black hallway wasn't exactly stimulating. A nurse had woken Meg up not long before and the patient had winked at Dean when she'd seen him waiting. It was another twenty minutes before the lights in his room finally flicked on and Dean jumped to his feet.

He could see someone moving around through the crack in the door. It wasn't long before it opened fully and Dean came face to face with Jimmy, who stared at him with a deer-caught-in-the-headlights look.

"Jimmy…" Dean said cautiously. Jimmy made a squeaky noise and tried to slam the door, but Dean was faster and shoved his foot into its path. The door closed hard on his foot and he had to bite his tongue to stop from cursing; he didn't need Jimmy to be anymore skittish than he already was. "Open the door, Jimmy."

"No!" Dean rolled his eyes and pushed against the door, which moved easily against Jimmy's weak hold. "Dean!"

"Jimmy, will you just talk to me?" Dean managed to push himself inside, but Jimmy was quick to move away and Dean kept his foot in the door to make sure it didn't close. "Why have you been hiding out up here?"

"Are you kidding me? Why would I go out _there_?" A panicked look broke out across his face. "So everyone can stare at me? So everyone can whisper behind my back that I got their favorite doctor fired?"

"That wasn't you, Jimmy. That was–"

"Of course it was me!" He shouted. "You think they're going to blame Castiel or Leviathan? They're both completely insane, of course they're going to blame me!"

"This isn't your fault Jimmy, it's not any of your fault. He was your doctor, he's the one that screwed up."

"I trusted him," Jimmy said miserably, slumping to the floor. "He said he was going to help me."

Dean didn't really know what to say to that—he was finding that it was a lot easier to shock him into silence then he had previously thought. Jimmy covered his face with his hands, trying to hide his shame from the other man. Unsure of what else to do, Dean offered lamely, "Well, at least he's gone now."

"That doesn't fix anything." Dean sat down on the floor, far enough from Jimmy that he still had enough space to wallow in self pity. Jimmy took a shaky breath and peaked at Dean through his fingers. "None of it's real."

"What's not real?"

"My whole life." Jimmy sighed and put his hands into his lap. "I have all these memories, an entire past, in my head, but none of it's real because _I'm_ not real. And I can handle that because, yeah, it means that my first kiss never actually happened, but it also means none of the bad things happened either. Getting bullied in school, Amelia's accident, getting mugged the first time I ever left Illinois, all of that is just some messed up delusion in Castiel's head. But this is real and I didn't…I didn't even know what was going on."

"You had no way of knowing," Dean said, but he knew Jimmy wouldn't accept that.

"Can we just not talk about it right now?" Jimmy asked, almost begging. "Let's just change the subject."

Dean wanted to jump in with _can you explain all the craziness in your head_ but he figured maybe a more mild topic might be better. They talked about sports for a bit until Dean realized that Jimmy really didn't know much about the subject. Then Jimmy explained the basics of accounting to Dean, a subject that he really couldn't care less about, and he was somewhat proud he'd even managed to stay awake for it.

Eventually they ran out of small talk and just stared awkwardly at the floor in silence. Dean sighed and decided to just come right out and ask for help, because there was no way he could handle everyone that was popping up and yelling about demons, minions, and the dangers of over medicating children. Jimmy made a face but nodded sympathetically; Dean was glad that at least someone in this damn place understood how hard it was for him to deal with all seven of Castiel's personalities. Jimmy went so far as to even draw a little diagram, explaining the do's and don'ts for each alter.

"Okay, so, Emmanuel likes Meg, and thinks she's a nurse, and Misha likes Ruby, but calls her Rachel."

"No, Meg is Rachel, Ruby is Genevieve."

"And that god guy?"

"He doesn't like anyone." Jimmy paused and looked up from his note pad. "But don't say that in front of him, I think he's trying to go for that whole 'loving father' deal."

Jimmy slid his notes over to Dean who picked them up and looked at the scribbled out cartoons. The little angel wings were obviously Castiel and he guessed the fish was Leviathan. "What's the other symbol next to Lev?"

"A mirror. He doesn't like them." Jimmy stretched out a hand and twisted open the door to the bathroom. Dean peered into the room and up at the mirror above the sink—it had been scribbled over in what looked like black permanent marker, the ink reapplied over and over again until barely a tiny streak of glass was left.

"Why?"

"Your guess would be as good as mine," Jimmy shrugged. He reached back over, grabbed the paper pad, and clicked his pen open. "Okay, here's what else you need to know about Emmanuel."

#%^%&$%

Dean was used to people being a little on edge around him, even before he was an ex-soldier with anger issues and a tendency to flip out on people. Ever since the summer that he shot up six inches and he turned rough, he never found it all that hard to intimidate strangers with a few thinly veiled threats. So it caught him a little off guard when he walked into group and saw Luc sitting right next to Jimmy. He could tell by the wide eyed look on Jimmy's face that whatever Luc was whispering in his ear was less then pleasant. Everyone else in the room seemed oblivious to the pair, or at least didn't care enough to do anything about it.

Dean had to bite the inside of his cheek to stop himself from snapping and breaking Luc's jaw. Instead he marched over to Jimmy and Luc and grabbed the back of Jimmy's chair, dragging it a few feet over and placing a chair between them before sitting down. Luc made an annoyed face and crossed his arms over his chest. "You are such a buzz kill."

"I _told_ you to stay away from him," Dean snapped.

"I've never been very good at following orders."

"I should have just stayed in my room," Jimmy mumbled.

Before any of them could say anything else, the door opened and in walked Dr. Hill, another blonde in a doctor's coat close behind. A hush fell over the small group, all eyes on the new girl, who gave a bit of a timid smile in return. "Everyone," Dr. Hill called, making sure she had everyone's attention before she placed a hand on the younger woman's shoulder, "this is Ms. Jo Harvelle. She will be interning here while she studies for her doctorate."

"Hi," she greeted, and though she tried to come off as casual, it was obvious how nervous she was. Dean thought that she looked a little young to be working amongst psychopaths, but then again, Dean wasn't a doctor.

"Ms. Harvelle is going to run today's group session." Dr. Hill handed her clipboard to Jo and motioned to the chair at the front of the room for her to sit in. "Mr. Milton, would you please come with me?"

Luc tore his eyes away from the new doctor and over to Hill. "What? Why?"

"We've decided that Ms. Harvelle's first session would go smoother if you were not present." The polite smile on her face didn't do much to hide her tone, which was clearly saying _suck it, Luc_. The blond man's jaw clenched and he looked back at Jo, like he was adding her to a list of people he didn't like, before he grudgingly stood up and went with Dr. Hill.

"So," Jo looked around the room, glancing down at the clipboard to match the files with each patient, "shall we start?"

"Ruby stole my pudding this morning," Meg accused immediately. Ruby shouted a profanity in response, and thus began a yelling match that lasted for the entire session.

"Yeah, we should have stayed in our rooms," Dean said, glancing over at Jimmy, whose head was whipping back and forth between the two screaming girls. "These sessions are pointless."

##$^**^&

After a long week of no sleep, Dean finally broke down and asked for an increase in his sleeping meds. It might have had something to do with Sam nagging him that afternoon about the bags under his eyes and Jessica slowly shaking her head sadly. Whatever the cause, Dean was looking forward to a night of great sleep, because the first two nights of a meds increase usually meant he was nearly dreamless. So no screaming and bloodshed tonight.

Castiel apparently had other ideas, though, because he barged in sometime during the night and shook Dean until he woke up. "Dean, I've been thinking."

Dean didn't so much answer as make a gurgling sound and rolling onto his side. Castiel promptly pushed him onto his back and began rambling on about something Dean couldn't really understand. "Ca– st'p."

"Pardon?"

"Lo– nt–"

"Dean, you're not making any sense." Castiel yanked Dean up to rest against the headboard. "Are you unwell?"

"Tired," Dean managed to mutter, his head lolling to the side.

"This is rather important." Castiel held Dean's face between his hands in an attempt to get him to focus on the supposed angel. "It's about Sam. His constant trips down to Hell could have adverse effects."

"You knows there's only…" Dean trailed off as he struggled to keep his eyes open. "Only one week left."

"One week?" Castiel asked. He pulled away from Dean, who barely managed to keep upright without the other man's help. "One week until what?"

"I never expected–you lie _a lot_."

"No I don't." Castiel looked at Dean, confusion etched on his face as he tried to follow Dean's train of thought.

"You're like a weird mix of slutty an' prudish."

"_Excuse me?_"

"And you talk so freakin' much. Always blabberin' on 'bout shit I don't care about–"

"Your soul is extremely important, Dean."

"–your make-believe wife and your crazy daddy issues." Dean managed to put a heavy hand on Castiel's shoulder, and the movement would have sent him toppling over if Castiel hadn't reached out and steadied him. "'s okay though. I like you anyways."

"I'm glad to hear that," Castiel patronized.

"One week," Dean repeated. Then he leaned in, gravity doing most of the work and making his nose bump against Castiel's, but he quickly corrected himself and pressed his lips down on Castiel's chapped ones. It lasted only a few seconds, and then he was being shoved back, barely catching the look of panic on Castiel's face before the back of his head slammed against the headboard.

He was alone the next time he opened his eyes, but he didn't have much time to contemplate what had happened; the pull of sleep was too strong, and it wasn't long before he passed out again.

**Oh, cliffy ending! Chapters a little choppy I know...but they finally kissed (Dean and the actual Castiel at least). Also, new personality next chapter :D. And just wanted to thank my Beta Izrafel who's just awesome 3.**

**Hope you enjoy! Please review 3 3**


	15. Chapter 15

Dean woke up stiff as a board, laying the wrong way with his feet angled awkwardly against the headboard. He groaned and rolled onto his back, trying to stretch out his sore muscles and failing miserably. He had no idea how he ended up in such an uncomfortable position and he was sure he was going to pay for it for the rest of the day. Sitting up, a heavy dull pain pooled in the middle of his back, confirming his suspicions.

Something nagged at the back of his head, a bad dream, maybe, but be brushed it off in favor of going out to find some aspirin. Dean didn't know what time it was, but there weren't any smells coming from the kitchen, so it must have been long past breakfast. The med line was closed, but Dean knocked on the tin shutters until one of the part time nurses grudgingly opened up. He swallowed back the tiny pills and head over to the worn out couch in the rec room. Along the way, everyone's eyes were glued to him, some of them full of amusement, some full of disdain, but they were all certainly directed at him.

"Oh, Dean, Dean, Dean," Meg grinned when he sat down beside her. "What did you do?"

"I've only been up for, like, ten minutes." Meg opened her mouth to reply, but before she could, Nurse Pam walked through the doors quickly, followed by a very agitated Dr. Hills.

"This is his whole file?" Dr. Hill flipped through the brown folder in her hands, once, twice, three times as if some new information might pop up. "There's hardly anything in here."

"That's all there is," Nurse Pam shrugged.

"These aren't even originals, they're all photocopies!" Dr. Hill huffed, pushing her glasses off her face and up to rest on top of her head.

"Those are all that was left after Crowley cleared out his office."

"But I–he's not even in here!" Hill's eyebrows knitted together as her expression slowly became frantic. "How am I supposed to deal with him?"

"Okay," Pam sighed and patted the doctor on the shoulder, "it's fine, don't panic. Just go back to your office and try to figure things out."

Dr. Hill continued to flip through the file over and over again even as Pam gently pushed her down the hall away. Dean watched them until they disappeared through the swinging doors, then turned back to Meg. "Do we have a new patient or something?"

If possible Meg's grin only grew wider at Dean's question. "You don't know?"

"I've only been awake ten minutes," Dean repeated, frustrated with Meg's attempt at being mysterious.

"Oh, this is going to be good." Meg pointed out to the patio but offered no other explanation. Dean hesitated. For all he knew, there could be a bloody massacre going on out there, but it wasn't like there was anything better to do with his time.

It was colder then he expected outside, the chill accompanied by a light drizzle and a cloudy sky, but nothing all that spectacular, nothing that explained the looks he'd been getting since he got up. He looked around and his eyes landed on the two people by the fence. One must have been the new nurse that the hospital had managed to scrape enough money together to afford. The other (very familiar) figure next to her was lounging on the ledge with only the chain link fence keeping him from toppling off the building. Dean saw blue jeans and thought _Misha_,but the cigarette dangling from his lips made him pause.

"Are you smoking?" Dean stood between him and the nurse once he reached them, who seemed only interested in making sure that her patient didn't burn himself. The man just shrugged and blew out another puff of smoke, barely paying Dean any attention, which is what really caught Dean's attention. "Do I…know you?"

"Can you ever really know a person?" The man smiled wanly and Dean looked over to the nurse, who didn't offer any help. Dean doubted she knew anymore then he did. "You shouldn't worry so much, Dean. You'll get wrinkles."

"Who are you?"

"I'm Cas." He looked up at Dean, eyes crunched in surprise, flicking the ash off his cigarette. "Did you hit your head or something?"

"You're not Castiel."

"Sure I am." He looked down at his dirty jeans and tapped his knee. "See? I'm all here."

"How–what happened?" Cas flicked his cigarette again on the ground and slid off the ledge.

"Life." He wiggled his eyebrows and grinned, like he'd just made a great joke. "It's all going to hell in a hand basket, you know?"

Cas shoved his hands into the back pocket of his jeans and moved in close to Dean. Cas—the one Dean was used to—had never really understood personal space, so Dean should have been used to it, but the other man reeked of cigarettes. Dean felt a puff of hot breath on his skin and something clicked inside Dean's head. He remembered pulling Castiel in close but not much else and even though it was all pretty hazy he could guess what happened after that. "Shit."

"You seem troubled. Anything I can do to help?" Cas reached up and cupped the side of Dean's chin, rubbing a thumb over his cheek

"Look, I know you think that what we did was, uh," Dean paused and tried to think of the right words, "_sinful_, or whatever, but I was just–"

"Sinful?" Cas blinked before a wide grin found its way onto his face. "You're right. We should pray."

"Uh…" Dean didn't know how to respond to that, and before he could say anything, Cas was on his knees. He wrapped a hand around Dean's wrist and yanked him down to the cold rough ground.

"God Jehovah, creator of the infinite cosmos, everything from the t-rex to those tiny bugs that buzz all summer long." Cas let go of Dean's wrist then laid it on the back of his head, shoving Dean down till his forehead collided with the pavement. Tiny rocks dug into his skin, but he knew by now to just let the crazy happen without trying to resist physically. Cas kept a firm grip on his head as he continued to pray, closing his eyes and raising a hand up to heaven. "Your poor son has fallen into wickedness, the dark temptation of carnal sin."

"Cas, what the hell?"

"We pray for his twisted wretched soul and–" A high pitched beep cut off whatever Cas was going to say. The nurse pulled out her cell phone and shut off the alarm. Cas finally let go of Dean, who sat back up on his heels and rubbed off the smudge of dirt on his forehead.

"Times up." She held her hand out to Cas, who fished out a box of cigarettes from his pocket and handed it to her.

"You're a very somber woman," he grinned. "I can help you with that."

"Inside," she ordered, like Cas was a trained dog. Cas rose to his feet and did as he was told. After trying and failing to wrap his mind around what had just happened, Dean went with them. Everyone's heads turned when the trio walked in, staring at Cas like the last piece of pie at a picnic. It was quiet as everyone waited for Cas to say something, attack someone, roll over and do tricks—Dean really had no idea what they were expecting, but they all looked pretty interested.

Dr. Hill came back into the rec room and one look at Cas made her freeze in her tracks. She stared at him blankly until Pam joined her. She took one look at the shocked doctor and sighed. "You need to learn to go with the flow, doc."

"I have no idea what to do," Dean heard her say quietly. She tore her gaze away from Cas and over to the nurse, looking like she'd had a revelation. "Oh God, I'm a horrible doctor."

Pam sighed again and rolled her eyes. "Okay everyone," she called, "I'd like to remind you all that we have a zero tolerance policy when it comes to selling medication. That includes for money, cigarettes, or anything else you're offered. If you are caught exchanging meds, you _will_ be dealt with and it will _not_ be a walk in the park, trust me. It won't just be you losing your TV privileges."

Cas looked over at Dean, a wry smile on his lips. "That's not going to stop me," he whispered conspiratorially.

"Are you going to explain to me what's going on?" Dean asked in return, but Castiel just shrugged and headed over to the tables, ruffling Becky's hair along the way. Dean sat down across from him, but when Cas gestured down to the empty table then over to the door that led to Missouri's kitchen, Dean grudgingly stood up and went to ask the cook for two trays.

"Mm, re-heated mush." Cas jabbed his fork into the day old macaroni and cheese. "My favorite."

Yeah, okay, Dean was done. "What's wrong with you?"

"Well for starters, I'm not completely sure this is made with real cheese."

"You're acting crazy."

Cas looked around the room then back at Dean. "You are aware that we are _in_ a mental institution, right?"

"Are you?" Cas only blinked at him, mixing his noodles with the soggy peas. "I mean, isn't this supposed be Hell?"

"Of course it's hell. It's 2014, the world's gone to shit, and if you ever try to tell anyone that they lock you up tighter than Pandora's box."

"Wasn't Pandora's box opened pretty easily?"

Cas ignored him. "Also, I'm fairly certain most people here are in league with the devil."

"…Yeah, that sounds more like you."

Cas tilted his head and the two began a rather intense staring contest that was finally ended when he looked down at Dean's pudding. "Are you going to eat that?"

Before Dean could answer, Cas snatched the pudding cup and whistled at Meg, who turned around just in time to catch the flying snack as it zipped through the air.

"What was that?" Dean was fairly used to being confused by Castiel's actions, but this was a whole new level of weird.

"What was what?" Cas asked.

"You just gave Meg your pudding."

"No, I just gave her _your_ pudding," Cas corrected. He grabbed his own pudding cup and slid it down the table, where Ruby picked it up right before it fell off the table, winking at Cas.

Dean wanted to ask about that, too, but he was staring to think he wouldn't actually want to know why Cas was giving away his dessert. Then, like a vulture circling a dying animal, Luc swooped in and sat down next to Cas. "What, no sweets for me?"

"I'd hate to ruin your figure, Nick."

"Oh, it's Nick now?" Luc shot a cheeky grin over at Dean. "Don't I feel special."

"Get lost," Dean snapped.

Cas shot Dean a look that wasn't nearly as appreciative as Dean had expected. "You'll have to forgive Dean, he hasn't gotten over the fact that you used to be, you know, Satan."

"You know, that's too bad, I was just getting the hang of being the prince of darkness." Luc inched closer to Cas, obviously trying to rile Dean up. Dean couldn't tell if Luc hated him or just liked pushing his buttons; mostly likely, it was both. "It's been a while."

"I just saw you last night." Losing time was common among the alters, though it was probably one of the things that annoyed Dean the most. Castiel didn't really care about the passage of time, Jimmy had gotten used to losing it, but the others were stubborn as hell and if they thought it was still Tuesday there wasn't anything you could do to convince them otherwise. After the two hour argument with Emmanuel over whether it was the forth of July or not, Dean decided not to bother anymore.

"Of course, how could I forget?" Luc laced his fingers between Cas's. "It was quite the night."

Cas picked up Luc's wrist with his free hand and lifted it away from him. "I remember it being rather uneventful."

"Oh come on, the grape juice, the week old Easter chocolate, those six pages we managed to download from the Kama Sutra." Luc spoke to Cas but looked at Dean, smirking like he had won something.

"We've never had sex Nick." Cas smiled at Dean. "The only man I've ever been with is Dean."

In the past, Dean would've freaked out over a guy claiming to have had sex with him, and probably still would, but this was Cas, so his only response was,"Whoa, whoa, we've never done _that_."

"Isn't that cute, still trying to protect my reputation." Chuck and Becky walked into the room and Cas stood up to go talk to them. "Excuse me for a moment."

Luc waited for Cas to leave before turning back to Dean, smirk back in place. "So, you going to share with the class? What'd you do to make the stoner pop up?"

"Bite me."

"Don't let all the attention go to your head. You might be the favorite now, but Cas is one fickle bastard. It was me the last three times, Meg the time before–hell, Gabriel switched his water with vodka once as a joke and then Cas went full on alcoholic for a month."

"I don't need a history lesson."

"You know, if would stop with the holier-than-thou attitude, I think we could be pretty good friends."

"I doubt that."

"I've been here a pretty long time. I could help you out."

"I don't need or want your help," Dean growled.

"Really?" Luc raised an eyebrow and pointed over to the door. "Because Cas just left with Meg."

Glancing quickly around the room and finding neither patient, Dean cursed as he got up, walking quickly to the stairwell. He jogged up the stairs, expecting to see Meg forcing herself on a reluctant Castiel. Instead, he found Cas pinning Meg to the wall with his body, one hand tangled up in her hair, the other shoved under her shirt.

"Cas!" Dean barked out. Meg and Cas pulled apart, out of breath and skin flushed red. They stood frozen, Cas's hand still cupping Meg breast, both staring at Dean like children caught stealing a cookie.

"This isn't what it looks like," Cas offered lamely after a few seconds of awkward silence.

"Shut up, Cas." Dean grabbed Cas's arm and yanked him away from Meg, who stumbled from the sudden lack of support. Dean dragged the man over to Castiel's room and Cas gave a Meg a small wave before he was shoved through the doorway. Once they were both inside, Dean let out an explosive sigh. "Okay, that was–"

"Are you hot?" Cas asked, shrugging off his zipper hoodie. "I'm boiling."

"I'm fine." Dean stepped in front of Cas and ducked his head down to meet the other man's lowered gaze, eyebrows furrowed in concern. "Are you doing okay?"

"Peachy." Cas pushed past Dean and went over to his dresser, pulling the first drawer open so fast it nearly fell out. He started to riffle through his clothes, closing the first drawer and moving on to the second one. "I need more T-shirts, all I have is long sleeved, and that's very impractical."

"You going to explain what happened out there with Meg?" Cas held up a clean white dress shirt, examined it, then shoved it back into the drawer.

"Meg is insatiable." He moved on to the shirt drawer. "Poor girl, troubled past–if she wasn't a bloodthirsty demon I might even feel sorry for her."

"Yeah, I know, I just caught you with your tongue down her throat. It looked pretty sympathetic."

"You know, she had this video on this phone she managed to sneak in when she first got here." Cas nudged the drawer closed with his knee. "It starred a rather sleazy pizza man. He put on quite the show."

"You're avoiding the question," Dean pointed out. "Weren't _you_ the one that told me not to sleep with Meg?"

"Was I?" Cas asked. He leaned against his dresser, his chest heaving with heavy uneven breath. He pushed his hand past the collar of his shirt and rested it over heart.

Dean took a step towards him. "Are you sure you're okay?"

"I feel like there's a jackhammer going off in my chest."

"Should I go get one of the doctors?"

"No," he mumbled, his voice wavering a bit. "It's just the methylphenidate."

"Metha-what-now?"

"Methylphenidate," he repeated "Ritalin."

"Who the hell gave you Ritalin?"

"Becky, not that she had all that much." Cas sucked in a breath. "Granted it might have been a bad idea to convince Chuck to give me his as well."

"How much did you take?" What he _really _wanted to ask is why the hell so many of Castiel's alters made terrible life choices, but that was a question for another day.

"Enough." Cas grinned and pushed away from dresser, pulling his hand free of his shirt. "We should go running."

"No."

Cas rolled his eyes hard and sat down in his chair. "Come on, I'm only going to have this buzz for ten, twenty minutes, tops. Then I'm just incredibly focused for a couple hours."

"If Chuck wasn't already so jittery I'd go down stairs and slam his head against the wall," Dean said, gritting his teeth.

"I find this intense need you have to hold my hand and treat me like a child a bit disconcerting."

"Well sorry for trying to look out for you," Dean snorted.

"Looking out for me? Dean," Cas leaned forward in his chair and rested his elbows against his knees, "the only reason you bother with me is because then you don't have to deal with your own horribly messed up life."

"_My_ messed up life?"

"Well, the devil is gallivanting around wearing your brother. That should probably be more important then my recreational drug use."

"I'm not going to deal with you when you're like this," Dean said coldly and turned towards the door. "Come find me when one of the more reasonable nut-cases shows up."

#$^$%^#

Dean was sitting in front of the television, being four hours into a CSI: Miami marathon. Every few minutes he'd glance over at the door expecting Castiel, or, hell, even Emmanuel, just anyone other than the druggie, to walk through.

"You know," Luc started, appearing suddenly to sit down next to Dean, "instead of avoiding him, you could just ask me how to–"

"I'm not avoiding anybody." Dean slid down to the other end of the couch, distancing himself from Luc.

"Of course not." Luc and him sat in silence for a few minutes before he spoke up again. "You know, leaving Cas all alone wasn't a very good idea."

"Yeah? And why's that?"

"I just imagine that he probably isn't going to stay alone for long."

"Screw off, Luc."

"It's so boring in here, without Crowley and Lilith. You're pretty much my only entertainment."

"I know what you're doing," Dean said as he turned the television off.

"Do you?" Luc asked, crossing his arms over his chest.

"And I'm not going to freak out and beat you into a bloody pulp, as much as you deserve it, so you might as well stop trying. And even if I did and got shipped off to jail, it doesn't mean you and Leviathan are going to go back to your friends-with-benefits arrangement."

"You think so?" Dean didn't get a chance to answer, or slap the smug smirk off Luc's face. Dr. Hill walked up to them and stared down at Luc with hard eyes. "Do you need something?" Luc smiling pleasantly up at her.

"You're late for your session. I have other patients to attend to and I can't have you putting me behind. Let's go."

"No."

"I wasn't asking you."

"You can't make me. _Dean_ hardly ever goes to his." Luc said his name like a curse and glared up defiantly at the doctor.

"Dean's case is very different than yours."

"Um…" The three of them turned to Meg, who seemed uncharacteristically nervous, wringing her hands and missing every ounce of her usual cockiness. "Can we talk, doctor?"

"Not now Meg," the doctor snapped. She seemed to remember her job a second later and sighed. "I'll be just a moment."

"But–"

"Once I finish with Mr. Milton, you and I can speak in my office."

"I slept with Cas!" she blurted. The whole room's attention suddenly turned to her. "And now I'm kind of freaking out."

"Meg–" Dr. Hill stopped herself from saying whatever she was going to say. "Okay, let's go talk in my office."

Meg nodded and quickly scurried out of the room with Dr. Hill close behind. Luc smirked at Dean, who was still staring stunned at the door that Meg had walked through. "Told you he wouldn't be alone for long."

Dean didn't respond. He was on his feet and in the stairway before he even thought of a come back for Luc. He stormed into Cas's room, finding him sitting crossed legged on the floor, back leaning against the bed and eyes closed.

"You and Meg…"

Cas nodded then held up two fingers, eyes still closed. "Twice."

"What happened to 'Dean's the only one I've ever been with'?"

"I said man, not woman," Cas snorted.

"Why the hell would you–" Dean heard the squeak of a door hinge and grabbed a book off of Cas's dresser, jamming it into the doorway before he accidentally let it close; one crazy person was hard enough to deal with. "Damn, it's like having another Leviathan around."

Cas's eyes snapped opened. "Leviathan's dead. You shouldn't talk about things you know nothing about."

Just as soon as it came the dark look in his eyes disappeared, replaced by the spaced out look from before. He grabbed hold of his ankles and folded his legs into a lotus position, humming a song Dean didn't recognize and shut his eyes again. Dean dropped to his knees beside him and gripped Cas's shoulders but he didn't open his eyes. "Castiel, listen to me."

Cas's eyebrows scrunched in annoyance but he refused to open his eyes. "No, no I don't go by Castiel anymore. There's not enough God left in me anymore to use an angel's name. Just Cas. Cas is fine."

"Cas, what I did was wrong. It was a mistake."

Cas finally opened his eyes, his head tilted to the side in a look that Dean wasn't sure was pleased or insulted. "You…tempted me, seduced me, took me to your bed and all but ripped the grace right out of me yourself. And now you're telling me it was all a mistake."

Dean had no idea what _grace_ was but he sure as hell knew he was treading on thin ice. "Look, sometimes people do bad things and they hurt others without meaning too. I knew you had a limit and I crossed that line and I'm sorry for that. But you know, one kiss isn't going to damn you to Hell. And even if it was a sin, God's supposed to be all forgiving or something so you don't have to throw all your values away and become some hippy freak to deal with it."

Okay, so maybe that didn't come out nearly as elegantly as he intended.

"Dean," Castiel smiled and reached a hand out to gently grip Dean's arm, "those pills Meg gave me are starting to kick in, so I'm only eighty percent sure you're actually here, but if you are, that mean's a lot."

"Okay, screw this," Dean grumbled, standing up and heading for the door. He kicked the book out of the doorway and slammed it shut. He turned, expecting Leviathan but meeting the same blitzed out stare of Cas.

"Did that make you feel better?" Cas asked. Dean didn't have an answer, because this Cas knew how Leviathan proofed himself, and that wasn't usual. Cas yawned and flopped back onto the ground. "I'm pretty close to passing out, but you're welcome to go ahead and have your way with me. I'm going to try and sleep through it though. Just remember to do my pants back up when you're done."

"I'm not going to– Jesus, Cas, you can't solve your problems with drugs!"

"Can't solve them with alcohol either," Cas yawned. "Those in glass houses shouldn't throw stones."

Dean sighed and rubbed the bridge of his nose. Whatever, he was done fighting for the day. He bent over and grabbed Cas by his shirt, hauling him up onto his knees and then hooking his arms beneath Cas's armpits. "Come on, let's get you into bed."

Cas groaned as Dean pulled him to his feet. "You're a nice man, Dean. This would be a decent relationship if you weren't always sleeping around and roughing me up."

Dean dumped him on the bed and stood up straight, but Cas reached up and pulled him back down. Cas crashed their lips together and ran a hand through Dean's hair. He tasted like peppermint and cinnamon and Dean wondered which one of those were Meg before he pulled away. "You need to sleep this off, Cas," he murmured.

"Stay," Cas pleaded. "We can fool around when I wake up."

"Your sheets still smell like Meg," Dean pointed out. He reached back to fluff up Cas's pillow and found two empty bottles when he did. Dean dropped the pillow and picked the plastic container up, green liquid drops pooling on the bottom of the empty Listerine bottle and Dean grabbed the cinnamon Crest bottle up off the bed too. "Did you drink these?"

"Mmm," was Cas's only answer. Dean saw him smile and he thought he was going to pull him in for another kiss before a pained look crossed his face. Cas cheeks flushed red and he shot up off the bed and ran for the bathroom, barely having enough time to make it to the bathroom before the mostly liquid contents of his stomach spewed forth.

"I don't want you to think that I'm trying to treat you like a child," Dean started, leaning against the door frame and watching Cas heave into the toilet, "but I hope you learned a lesson from all this."

******Dr. Crowley's patient notes: Novak**

**Amendment to notes on Castiel: **After further consideration I have concluded that Castiel delusions do not in fact go so far as to create an entirely new universe. Instead I believe Castiel has created a sort of futuristic self to deal with what he regards as his own sinful actions. However as this personality rarely comes out and he changes significantly every time he I am classifying him as a fragment instead of an alter. **See attached files for more information.**

**So...it's my birthday tommorrow :) and everyone I know are poor university students who can't afford gifts, so your reviews will be my only presents. Just saying :P**

**It was Cas! Congrats on those who guessed it, though to be fair I don't really consider him a full fledged alter (as per Dr. C's notes). There's actually probably going to be two more people popping up later in the story (one from the show, one I just made up). They don't really come around all that much so that why Dean doesn't count them in the story summery but Meg kinda mentioned it back in chapter two.**

**Enjoy!**


	16. Chapter 16

_The hall was long, longer then he remembered, windowless with cheap lights flickering on and off overhead. It was far colder then Dean had expected the desert to be, his skin was icy and he didn't know if that was from being underground on an eerily long night or from the terror piping through his veins. Maybe it had nothing to do with anything physical, maybe he had just shut down and all his nerves had turned off. A shadow swung over his face but his eyes were frozen on the floor, glued on the discarded blue scarf and the carefully embellished shoes now caked in mud._

"_Dean, Dean, Dean... I am so disappointed," A crackly voice chuckled behind him. "You had such promise."_

_Dean's lungs burned, it was if his body refused to suck in a breath, like his own mind didn't think he deserved to._You don't_. He lifted his hands up, the movement sent crimson drops splattering on the floor, the shadow swung again and Dean wiped the blood off on his shirt. It was bright against the dull green of his uniform and Dean could feel it seep through his clothes and onto his skin._

"_Better luck next time."_

Dean woke up to smoke and embers, gulping down a mouthful of air and his sleepy mind for one terrifying moment thought maybe he really was in Hell. "You know, you talk in your sleep."

"What?" Dean chocked out. He wiped a hand over his eyes, grateful to find them clean and dry, his vision slowly adjusted to the darkness till he could the dark hair and pale skin illuminated by the moonlight and the chapped lips wrapped around the burning cigarette.

"You talk, in your sleep," Cas repeated, smoke drooling out of his mouth. He rested his elbow on the backwards chair he sat on, which must have felt like stone compared to fancy chair Gabriel had put in his brother's room. "Though it's all rather jumbled, hard to make out what you were dreaming of."

"You're not supposed to smoke without a nurse, where'd you get those?" Dean kicked the covers off, he was freezing in his dream and now it was so stifling hot. Cas's smile twitched and Dean wasn't sure if he was amused by Dean's question or the fact that Dean was clad only in a pair of old boxers.

"Who's Alistair?" Cas asked and flicked the grey ash off his cigarette. Dean face twisted in a mix of annoyance and rage, he looked away but still caught the cool expression on Cas's face, as if he couldn't tell Dean didn't want to talk about it. "You kept saying that name. And someone else's, a woman-"

"You should be sleeping."

"So should you," Cas pointed out but Dean's heart was beating so fast that horse tranquilizers couldn't knock him out. "I couldn't sleep."

"Yeah, that's what happens when you pass out for fourteen hours."

"Ritalin crashes are quite harsh." Cas took another drag of the cigarette, sucking the stick down nearly to the filter. "Meg's medical cocktail helped."

"Why? Why put all that shit in your body?" Dean swung his legs over the edge of the bed to come face to face with Cas.

"I like to blame it on bad parenting." Cas reached in his pocket for another cigarette but Dean was quick to grab it and snap it in half.

"It couldn't have been that bad." Dean knew how bad parents could be, there were some sick people out there that would have made Dean's family looked normal but Dean finally found a chance to get some actual facts out of the man.

"My father abandoned me on earth then disappeared without a trace," of course it was stupid for Dean to expect any sort of legitimate answer "with a woman that clearly never wanted children."

"Wasn't much of a mother huh?" Dean figured there was no point discussing fathers with Cas, he certainly didn't want to talk about his own but he could tell by the way Cas's gaze dropped to the ground that the subject of his mother was still raw.

"No," Cas answered slowly like he hadn't ever thought about it before "she'd rather spend her days locked up in her room with a bottle of wine then pay the three of us any attention."

"That must have been tough."

"She never even apologized." He stared down at the floor with foggy eyes and Dean wondered where his mind was wandering off to. "For all her tears and promises, she could never bring herself to take any responsibility. I haven't even seen her since I turned twenty-nine."

"Apologize for what?" Dean asked trying to keep him on topic.

"I wasn't twenty-nine, I was much older, very old. I'm trapped in mortal flesh but I'm ancient, created long before men." Cas was quick to shut himself off, eyes snapping back into focus and body becoming stiff.

"But you're not an angel anymore."

"Wow Winchester, way to put salt in the wound." Cas stood up and kicked the chair back over to the side of the room. He grinned and stretched, his body arching and a yawn forcing its way out of the man's mouth. He reached out for the door handle, "Why don't I come back when you're dressed to receive company."

Dean crossed his arms over his naked chest. "You're kind of a perv you know that?"

Cas hummed in agreement on his way out and it was only after he was gone that Dean realized he was stuck all alone now. He debated going after Cas, his company was better than trying to force himself to stay awake for the rest of the night. He settled on a cold shower, hoping it would sooth his burning skin and that maybe it would relax him into another hour or two of sleep before breakfast.

Things didn't get much better from there though, Cas said things in group that made Ms. Harvelle's face turn cherry red and stutter when she dismissed the patients. Every time Dean turned away, Cas disappeared which usually wouldn't be a big deal except Dean knew that he was running off to get high. Dean had only bent down to pick up the fork Cas dropped and when he sat back up he was gone. Dean looked around and found him on the other side of the room talking to Ruby. Dean sighed and marched over to them, shoving Ruby out of the way to stand in front of Cas.

"Hey, are you going to finish your lunch?" Dean asked. Cas vigorously shook his head and took a step back. "So what do you want to do now then?"

Cas shrugged and Dean held out his hand. "Spit it out, Cas."

Reluctantly Cas leaned forward and spat into Dean's hand, two sticky green pills plopped into his hand. Dean dropped them onto the floor and crushed them beneath his shoe, Cas looked down at the powdered remains with mild disappointment. "You know you can't watch me 24/7."

"The nurses should be watching you," Dean grumbled. He grabbed Cas by the back of his shirt and dragged him upstairs like a parent sending a misbehaving child to his room. He shoved Cas inside, who looked just looked mildly amused by Dean's display of anger. Cas sighed and plopped down on the bed, looking up at Dean like he expecting him to explode and start screaming. "You need to _stop_."

"Sit with me?" Cas smiled patting a spot on the bed next to him.

"No," he replied then stubbornly added "I'm mad at you."

"I can see that."

"Do you?" Dean snapped. "Because you seem to be going out of your way to piss me off."

"I wouldn't say I'm going out of my way," Cas tapped his chin in contemplation "it's more like a necessary byproduct of my usual activities."

"You're going to kill yourself with those pills."

"That's always a possibility," Cas yawned.

"I just don't understand why you do this shit."

Cas head tilted to the left, eyes boring into Dean and studying him for God knows why, Dean couldn't even begin to understand what went on in that man's head. "Do you really want to know?"

Cas patted the bed next to him and a tiny warning bell went off in Dean's head telling him _approach with caution_ when the feeling of déjà vu hit him, he'd defiantly been in this situation before. Dean took a hesitant step forward, hands clenching and unclenching nervously at his side before he swallowed and grudgingly sat down. "Yeah I want to know."

Cas hummed and reached a hand out to Dean running a finger down the soft fabric of his worn plaid shirt. "I'm rather touched by your sudden concern for me."

Dean grabbed Cas's wrist before he could go any lower. "Focus."

"I am focused." Cas's gaze flicked up to him, eyes dark and mouth pulled up in a tiny grin and there were those warning bells again.

"Don't-" Dean started but Cas grabbed the back of Dean's neck and roughly pulled him down, slamming their lips together. Dean tried to mutter out a protest but only ended up biting Cas's tongue instead, at least it succeeded in making Cas pulling away.

"That was unnecessary."

Dean could only sputter in response because Cas was annoyed with _him_ and Dean felt like his life was turning into some really bad gay porno. "You- you're- _you_."

Cas jabbed two fingers against Dean's forehead. "You seem to be having trouble forming sentences, perhaps there's not enough blood in your upstairs brain."

Dean knocked his hand away. "You're not funny."

"That's a matter of opinion." Cas rose up on to his knees and grabbed Dean's hand. He pushed the other man's fingers under the hem of his shirt, dragging them along his stomach and over his chest. He probably meant to for the gesture to be sexy but instead it just forced Dean's fingers over the scars that were scattered across his chest. He could practically see Leviathan stabbing the blade into himself, thin white skin giving way and bright red blood pouring out.

"Stop," Dean gasped and ripped his hand out of Cas's grip. "Just stop."

Cas huffed in annoyance and tried to grab Dean's hand again but instead Dean shoved him away. He fell back onto the bed and let out an angry grunt "you know Dean, if you really didn't want this you'd just leave."

"It's more complicated than that." Dean glanced back at the door and considered Cas's words, he imagined that things could only go downhill from there anyways.

"It doesn't have to be complicated." Cas tried again inching down to bed closer to Dean. "You just need to stop thinking so much."

"You really think I want Meg's sloppy seconds?" Dean expected that to make him pull away again but it only seemed to entice him.

Cas leaned in close, Dean felt hot breath on his cheek when he chuckled. "You can stay, or I can go find someone else."

"Damn it," Dean growled and grabbed Cas's hips. Dean wasn't sure if he wanted to hit him or kiss him so he pushed Cas down onto the bed and kissed him before he could anything else. Cas tried to pull him even closer, as if that was even possible, clawing at his back and wrapping a leg around his hips.

"You are so damn annoying, you know that?" Dean hissed before he bit down on his neck, flicking his tongue over the mark to sooth the pain. Satisfied he'd finally shut him up when the man beneath him gasped he continued lower and lower. Cas's hands where traveling up and down his body but he paid them little attention, more focused on unbuttoning the shirt beneath his fingers. It wasn't till he heard a clunk against the hard floor that he realized Cas had managed to yank his belt off and it wasn't long before he felt nibble finger flicking open the button of his jeans.

"Wait." Dean pulled away for what seemed like the millionth time.

"What is it now?" Cas asked annoyed.

"I-I can't," Dean stuttered.

"Sure you can," Cas assured him, reaching up to pull him back.

"No, I mean I _can't_." Dean repeated, his skin turning scarlet red. "I…my meds they- so I can't. I mean…"

"Oh," Cas realized. His eyes traveled down Dean's body, resting on his jeans and Dean's never been so damn humiliated in his life. "Well…I'm glad you're comfortable enough in your sexuality that you don't consider this to be detrimental to your masculinity."

"Don't be an ass," Dean snapped though he wasn't entirely certain what Cas had just said. Cas huffed and fell back onto the bed, glaring stubbornly up at the ceiling. Dean felt like he should apologize or something, maybe try again but he'd probably already embarrassed himself enough for one day. "…I should go."

"Yeah, you should," Cas bit out. Dean grabbed his belt off the floor and stumbled towards the door. He had never felt like more of an idiot and for so many reasons he didn't even know where to start. Dean collapsed on his bed and buried his face into the pillow, it wasn't long till he could feel the hint of guilt build up in his chest. Castiel was his friend, naive and so virginal he made nuns look skanky, he was the one person in this whole place that could distract Dean from the fact that he was locked up in a freaking asylum. But Cas and Leviathan where only fractions of Castiel, pieces that seemed intent on destroying him. Castiel barely tolerated Dean placing a hand on his shoulder and here Dean was letting those two constantly drag him into bed. It didn't even matter it never went far, even the way he jokingly flirted with Misha would have made Castiel hyperventilate, best case scenario.

And of course there was the fact that Cas was only there in the first place because Dean had messed up. He had no idea what made him kiss Castiel, he'd like to chalk it up to there not being any bang-able chicks in the hospital but that excuse got lamer every time he said it. Dean had enough problems to deal with without trying to figure out that whole fiasco anyways.

So Dean decided to focus on getting rid of Cas, which he figured could only be done in a super crazy way. The short trip between Dean's room and Cas's was all the time he had to decide on a plan, he'd jump from idea to idea, trying to figure out which one was still plausible and completely out there, the only combination that could possibly work for the druggie waiting behind the door.

He found Cas riffling through the drawers again, searching for condoms, drugs, detailed sex manuals, Dean had no idea what he was looking for but he made a mental note that he should probably search the room later himself. At first Cas didn't pay him any attention, Dean had to actually yank at his shirt and twist him around to get any attention. Then he was face to face with the problem and realized that he didn't actually have a solution.

"Cas, listen I-"

"I know you'd come back," Cas said smugly, he stepped away from Dean and slowly leaned back till he toppled over onto the bed. His body bounced "You can never stay away for long."

"Sure, whatever you say." Dean ran a nervous hand over the back of his neck, realizing he needed to rethink his strategy. Better to fight fire with fire he decided. Cas pushed himself up onto his elbows and motioned for him to come closer but Dean didn't budge. "What's the date?"

"August sixth, 2014."

"See, for me, it's not." Cas blinked at him and sat up, head tilted and eyebrows drawn in confusion. "I mean when I woke up it was but when it wasn't when I went to sleep."

"I'm not sure I'm following." Cas rose to his feet and shoved his hands into his jeans back pockets.

"I'm from the past."

"The past?" Cas stepped forwards, his eyes swept over Dean's body like it might give him a clue to make sense of Dean's words.

"Yeah, I'm not from this time." Dean could tell Cas didn't really buy what Dean was saying so he tried to step it up. "Must have been a demon, sent me here-"

"A demon wouldn't be able to do this, wouldn't be nearly powerful enough." Cas looked doubtfully at Dean and crossed his arms over his chest.

"Okay so not a demon, an angel maybe? A bad one, like Luc or something-"

"Zachariah," Cas interrupted suddenly very serious. "Zachariah did this?"

"Uh, sure."

"Interesting." Cas ran a hand over the stubble that was growing over his jaw. "I suppose it should have been obvious, what with the way you dress."

Dean stepped closer, ignoring the comment about his wardrobe (ignoring that it was the second time he'd said it). "Are you happy like this?"

"Not particularly," He answered truthfully. "Not that I was ever happy before you anyways."

Which was really a whole nother issue for Dean to deal with later, much, much later. "Right so…" Dean stuck his thumb up over his shoulder. "I'm just gonna go and um figure out a way to get back home."

"That would be wise, I suppose."

"And when I get back I'm going to make sure this," he motioned between them, "never happens. Okay?"

"Well, you certainly got bored with me faster than I expected."

"It's not like that," Dean insisted as he inched towards the door. "It's just that I like you better as an awkward, virgin, angel of the Lord."

Cas gave him a bitter smile. "Yeah, I did to."

"So we're good?" Dean asked, hand already wrapped around the door handle.

"Peachy," Cas said dismissively, waiving a hand at Dean and telling him to leave. Dean didn't need to be told twice, he was out the door and already in the med line when he realized he should have said goodbye or something. Dean really wasn't all that found of Cas, who acted like an unholy mash up of Castiel and Leviathan which turned out to be the absolute worst mix of anything in the history of everything. Pam smiled at him when she handed over the small paper cup holding three small pills. Dean smiled back and gulped them down, he was pretty sure he'd never needed it more.

%#%&^*$

Dean wasn't sure what made him get up so early, maybe he was just eager to see if his plan had worked but he personally thought it was the sweet smell of bacon coming from the floor below. He forced himself out of bed and pulled his clothes on, too groggy to care that his shirt was on inside out. He flung the door open and leaned against the frame, he yawned and tried to will himself to move but he was still pretty damn tired.

"Um, hey." Dean looked down the hall, expecting Castiel and only mildly disappointed when he found Jimmy instead.

"Hey, Jimmy," he yawned. "How's it going?"

"Okay I guess." Jimmy looked down to the ground, his hands nervously tugging on his threadbare blue shirt. "It's Friday."

"Yep," Dean mumbled out. He pushed himself away from door frame stumbled over to the stairway. Jimmy didn't follow till Dean was halfway down the stairs, like he had been debating the idea before he scrambled to catch up. Dean takes the stairs one-by-one finding it difficult to keep his feet steady. "Damn I should have stayed in bed."

"Where have I been?"

"No idea," Dean looked over his shoulder, eyes traveling over the man that looked more flustered then usual "where do you go when you're not in charge?"

"No I mean, who was out?"

"Cas." Dean pushed through the doors that led to the dining room, leaving an empty rec room behind and almost letting the swinging door slam into Jimmy's face.

"Oh," Jimmy sighed, looking a little relieved and Dean was quick to correct himself.

"Not Castiel, _Cas_." Dean could smell the bacon and eggs, even a small hint of pancakes from the kitchen but Missouri refused to open the door for Dean, told him to wait till the others showed up.

"That's…not good." Jimmy coughed. Dean spun on his heels, the movement almost sending him toppling over on his shaky legs. "Did Luc do that?"

"No, me actually." Dean headed back to the rec room, might as well pass out on the couch until breakfast time. "I fixed it though, told him some angel guy, Zack something, messed shit up."

"Zachariah?"

"Yeah, not really sure what Cas thought happened but he left so I guessed it worked." Dean flopped down on the couch and stretched his aching muscles. "Guess we get a decent breakfast to celebrate, right Jimmy?"

Dean didn't get a response and when he opened his eyes he noticed Jimmy hadn't come to sit with him either. "Jimmy?"

He found him a few feet behind the couch, eyes clouded over and lips slightly parted. Dean got off the couch and moved towards Jimmy, the switch hardly ever took more the a couple seconds but Jimmy was frozen in place like a broken toy. Dean placed a hesitant hand on Jimmy's shoulder, the drowsiness that had plagued his body suddenly gone. Jimmy didn't respond to Dean's touch so he shook him, gently at first then harder and faster till he finally blinked and pulled away. "Hi."

"Hey," Dean replied a little unsure.

"What's your name?"

"Dean." The man in front of him grinned, smiled so wide Dean thought his face might split open. "Who are you?"

"I'm Tommy." It seemed impossible but his smile grew even, he held up seven fingers and shoved them in Dean's face. "And I'm this many."

**And thus is revealed the one non-cannon alter, I just figured it be weird for him not to have a child alter since those are like the most common kind.**

**Also good news, bad news situation. It might take me a while to update (what with my classes starting and all the writing challenges I signed up for stupidly) BUT in chapter 19 something big happens. Big like 'omg *insert character's name* I can't believe you did that' kind of big so I hope you'll consider it worth the wait.**

**Enjoy! **


	17. Chapter 17

**AN1: Please go back to the first chapter for a full list of warning.**

**AN2: So totally sorry this took so long! I've been swamped for the last two months but I split what has supposed to be the 18th chapter in half and tacked them on this chapter and what was supposed to be 19, so you get two extra long chapters! **

**AN3: (wow there's a lot of these...) starting Sunday(16th) I'll be posting Church Channel side stories on my Destiel Advent calender story. They'll be totally non-cannon so you don't have to read them but Dean will probably end up kissing each of the personalities ;). And if you go to my profile and click the 'Church Channel Bonus Stuff' I have some extra things posted on Tumblr.  
**

"Uh, hi Tommy," Dean greeted.

"I'm hungry, will you make me breakfast?"

"Yeah, sure." Dean stepped towards the kitchen again. "What do you want?"

"Um," Tommy bit his lip in concentration. "I want what you're gonna have."

"Okay, I'll just-" Dean made his way back over to the cafeteria and Tommy walked, well, more like skipped, behind him. "I'll just go grab that. Why don't you go sit down?"

Tommy happily nodded and went over to the table while Dean stood awkwardly in front of the kitchen door. He debated if he really wanted to risk facing Missouri again before he gently knocked. "Missouri? I know you said to wait but Tommy's here now, so-"

The door swung open before he could finish, Missouri shoved two plates in his hand and smacked him across the back of his head. "Here, now will you let me get back to work, boy?"

She didn't wait for an answer before she turned and went back into the kitchen, leaving Dean with a sore head and hands burning from the hot plates. Dean dropped the plate in front of Tommy and bite into a piece of crispy bacon. Tommy poked at the work pancakes and made a disappointed face. "Where's the syrup?"

"I don't think there is any." Dean picked up one of the pancakes, rolled it up and took a bite, not bothering to use a fork.

"Oh," Tommy blinked down at his plate like he could just will some syrup to appear. "I want Lucky Charms."

"We don't have Lucky charms."

Tommy pushed his plate away and crossed his arms stubbornly across his chest. "I don't like pancakes."

"Everybody likes pancakes." Dean shoved the plate back over to Tommy but the kid only shook his head and stuck his lip out in a pout.

"No, I hate pancakes." He pushed the plate over to Dean again. "I want Lucky Charms."

"Just try the pancakes, if you don't like them I'll ask Missouri for something else." Dean stabbed a fork into the fluffy hot cake and held it out for Tommy. Tommy glared at the fork in Dean's hand; he huffed and smacked his hand against the plate. It flew off the table and hit the ground, broke into two and sent tiny shards across the floor. "What the hell?"

Tommy bounced in his seat, startled at Dean's harsh tone. "I don't want pancakes."

"So you smash a plate? Are you stupid?" Dean bit out. Tommy's bottom lip began to quiver, his shoulders gently trembled and his wide eyes brimmed with tears. "Whoa, hey don't-"

Tommy cried out before Dean could finish, water exploding from his eyes and streaming down his face. Dean tried to shush him; he leaned over and ran a hand up and down his arm but that only made Tommy cry harder. The kitchen door swung open and Missouri rushed over to Tommy's side. "What's wrong, sugar?"

"He- He- He yelled at me!" Tommy sobbed, pointing an accusing finger at Dean.

"Boy," Missouri pointed her wooden spoon at Dean and hugged Tommy close to her chest, "you best apologize this instant."

"But-"

"Right now!"

"Fine, fine," Dean grumbled. "Sorry I yelled at you."

Tommy sniffled and hugged Missouri, "I just wanted some Lucky Charms."

"I know, I'm sorry."

"Well why don't I go and see if we have some cereal lying around." Missouri patted Tommy's head, glared at Dean and went back into the kitchen. Dean sat back down at the table and Tommy looked down sheepishly at his plate and poked at his food.

"I guess pancakes aren't so bad." Dean groaned. He could already tell that it was going to be a bad day.

&%$%^

"Mr. Fizzles is your friend," The puppet squeaked out in a high voice. Dr. Hill had taken one look at Tommy, walked back to her office and called in a 'specialist'. And by specialist, she meant a skinny guy with a crappy sock puppet. Tommy had been less than thrilled to see Garth, so he plopped himself down at Dean's feet by the couch and ignored the thin doctor.

"Mr. Fizzles is gonna go where the sun don't shine." Dean grumbled turning up the TV's volume and kicking his feet up on the table.

"Mr. Fizzles has red hair!" Tommy looked suspiciously at the sock on Garth's hand.

"You're just a puppet!"

"Am not!"

"Are too."

"Am not."

"Are too, infinity."

"Am not, infinity times two."

"Oh for the love of God, will you two just up?" Luc snapped. He tossed his magazine on the table and got up to leave, nearly knocking Garth over in the process.

Tommy tugged on Dean's jeans and frowned. "He yelled at me."

"Don't worry about it kid," Dean ruffled his hair and Tommy gave a shy smile "he's an asshole."

Tommy's smile disappeared into a quiet gasp and his eyes widened. "You said a bad word."

"That's because he's a bad man." Garth piped up, shoving his puppet in between Dean and Tommy. "But we can still be friends."

Tommy snatched Mr. Fizzles off Garth's hand and shoved his own hand into the puppet instead. "Asshole, asshole, asshole." He repeated cheerfully.

"Hey! That's mine!" Dean wished he could say the rest of the session got better but he'd be lying. Eventually Garth gave up trying to talk to Tommy. By then, it was lunch time and by some cruel coincidence spaghetti was on the menu.

"Tommy, cut your noodles up," Dean ordered when Tommy slurped another mouthful up and splashed tomato sauce across his face.

"No, I like it this way."

"You're getting food everywhere." Tommy ignored him and twirled his fork into the noodles. He lifted up his fork but before he could push it into his mouth, the ball of noodles sprung loose from the utensil and onto his shirt. "See?"

Dean dropped off their plates in the kitchen and took Tommy up to his room though he had to stop every ten steps to accommodate Tommy's extremely short attention span. As soon as they walked into the room Tommy kicked off his shoes and jumped on the bed. "Come jump with me!"

"I think you should clean yourself up." Dean said opening the bathroom door. "You should probably shower or something."

"I don't wanna!" Tommy shouted, jumping up and down on Dean's bed and nearly smashing his head against the ceiling each time.

"Tommy I'm giving you to the count of three to get your feet off the bed." Tommy stuck his tongue at Dean and kept bouncing. "One…Two…"

Tommy dropped down on to the bed and his whole body bounced a few times before he settled on his back and stuck his feet up in the air. "My feet aren't on the bed anymore."

"You need to take a shower," Dean repeated.

"No, no, no, no," Tommy sang, wriggling his toes. Dean huffed and kneeled on the bed, grabbed hold on Tommy's shirt and started trying to yank it up over his head. "No! I don't want to!"

"Well I'm not giving you an option!" Dean bit out finally managing to pull one on of Tommy's arms free.

"You two having fun?" Dean froze with his hand on Tommy's fly and looked over to the doorway. Pam was leaning against the doorframe, arms crossed over her chest and an amused smirk on her face.

"This isn't what it looks like."

"If I had a nickel for every time I heard that." Pam bent over and picked up Dean's towel. "There's a bath in the medical ward. Maybe you'd find that a little easier?"

"I like baths," Tommy smiled. And that's how Dean ended kneeling beside a bathtub, shirt completely soaked and scrubbing shampoo into Tommy's hair.

"This is the most ridiculous thing I have ever done," he says, pushing Tommy's bangs back and lathering it with shampoo. "You're, like, over thirty-five years old, you shouldn't need help taking a bath."

"Sing the rubber ducky song!" Tommy laughed, colleting a handle full of bubbles and blowing them back into the water.

"No," Dean said firmly.

"Please?"

"No, no way. I didn't sing it for Sam, I didn't sing it for Ben, and I'm not signing it for you." Dean filled a plastic cup up with water and held it above Tommy's head. "Close your eyes."

Tommy squeezed his eyes shut and Dean poured the water out, it washed away the suds and plastered Tommy's hair against his forehead. Dean reached back, grabbed his towel and called back to Pam. "We're done!"

"I don't wanna get out," Tommy pouted.

Dean rubbed the towel over Tommy's head and dried his hair. "Sorry kiddo, its bedtime."

Tommy's hair stuck up at a hundred different angles and looked curiously at the water as it disappeared down the drain. He shivered when the cold air hit his nearly naked body; the black boxers he was wearing stuck to his skin and Dean wrapped a towel over his shoulders. "I don't want to go to bed."

"Is there anything you do want to do?" Dean asked.

"Um," he paused to consider his options "I want to colour."

"We can colour tomorrow." Dean gave Tommy his pants and helped him out of the tub. "Right now you have to go to bed."

Pam opened the door and led them back to the elevator, Tommy's wet feet slapping against the worn tile of the hallway. They watched the numbers on the elevator ding off one by one as they rose higher. Pam looked between Dean and Tommy and smirked. "I'm glad to see how much you enjoy playing house."

"Shove it."

"Is that anyway to talk to the woman that hands out your meds?"

"Do I have to go to bed?" Tommy asked Pam quietly, like he didn't think Dean would hear him.

"Sorry, honey. Rules are rules." The doors opened and the trio stepped out, Pam patted Dean on the back and laughed. "Can I trust you to put baby to bed?"

"I'm not a baby!" Tommy scoffed, clutching the damp towel tighter around himself.

"Just go wait for me upstairs." Dean shot him a look that told him not to argue and Tommy, grudgingly, turned around and went upstairs. "You know I'm not his babysitter."

"Hey, no one asked you to watch him," Pam shrugged. "You're supposed to be here to get better not to entertain our 'youngest' patient."

"He's the one following me around like a baby duck."

"You could always just leave him with Luc," she said and Dean instantly started to protest. She put her hands up in defense and continued, "or Meg, or Chuck. The point is it's not like he was patiently waiting by the door before you got here. He _has_ been pretty functional the last ten years, well, you know, considering."

Dean scowled at Pam's condescending tone, but instead of snapping at her, he turned and stalked up the stairs. Tommy was back in Dean's room, not even trying to sleep, rifling around through Dean's drawers. "What are you doing?"

Tommy looked at Dean over his shoulder. "I need pajamas."

Tommy's outfit was fairly wet at that point. Dean probably should have dried him off before he shoved him back into his clothes. Still, that didn't mean Dean was going to let him wear _his _clothes to bed. "You have your own clothes to wear to bed."

"But they're stupid clothes." Tommy's face crunched up and looked down at the white button up he was wearing. "I want cool grown up clothes, like yours."

"If I give you something to wear, do you promise to just go to bed?" Dean asked kneeling down next to Tommy. The kid eagerly nodded and went back to digging through Dean's clothes. Dean reached up and opened the top drawer and pulled out a pair of sweatpants he never wears. "There, put these on."

Tommy began to wiggle out of his pants without so much as telling Dean to turn around. Apparently, seven year olds had no concept of modesty. Once he had pulled on the sweatpants he started to work on the buttons on his shirt and tossed it to the ground before reaching up to grab Dean's Metallica shirt out from the drawer. Dean's hand shot out and grabbed Tommy's arm,

Dean twisted Tommy's arm up and stared down at the dozen or so flat white lines that marred his skin. The right one was even worse, eight puffy lines up by his elbow and smaller ones leading up to his wrist, like an artist's pallet fading from black to white. Dean suddenly gets why Castiel doesn't own any t-shirts, why Jimmy always tugs at his sleeves. How could not have seen this earlier? How could Castiel hide such a huge things from him? But then again, Dean didn't know much about the so-called angel. He was so engrossed by the scars that didn't realize how much he was freaking Tommy out until the child alter tried to pry Dean's fingers off his wrist.

"Where'd you get these?" Dean asked running his thumb over a particularly nasty scar. Of course he already knew; it couldn't have been more obvious if _Leviathan_ was carved into his skin.

"Um, I don't know, the jungle gym?" Tommy guessed. He pulled his hand out of Dean's hold and went for the shirt again.

"Here, put this on." Dean shrugged off his green over shirt and handed it to Tommy. He ushered him off to bed and tucked him in.

Pills or no pills, Dean didn't sleep that night.

Sunday rolled around, like _the Sunday_, the one where he's supposed to show up in Leviathan's room and let him have his crazy way with Dean. Except Leviathan's not around, just a bare-foot, giggly kid. And then to the icing on the cake is when Gabriel shows up. He took one look at Tommy and got that stupid cocky grin on his face.

"Hey, want to see something cool?" Gabriel asked and kneeled down next to Tommy, Dean followed suit sitting down next to the 'boy' who was drawing a dog or something on the cafeteria menu. "Tommy, how's Jimmy doing?"

The crayon stilled against the paper, pausing for only a split second before Tommy swept out a wide crooked circle. "He's okay."

"Not bugging you, is he?"

Tommy's nose crinkled and he scribbled over the sort of dog until it disappeared beneath waxy red lines. "No, but he doesn't want to play right now."

"Jimmy's always been a stick in the mud."

"He's too loud." Tommy complained, scratching at his temple.

"Wait," Dean interrupted before Gabriel could say anything else "he can talk to Jimmy?"

"Sure can." Gabriel smiled ruffling Tommy's hair. Gabriel looked smugly at Dean, suddenly the DID expert in the room and of course he would hold it over Dean's head. "It's called co-consciousness; you know it's step one in forming a 'working system'."

"And the others?"

"Nah, not anymore." Gabriel pried the red crayon out of Tommy's fingers and replaced it with a blue one, turning the paper over so he could continue drawing. "They used to chit-chat all the time, way back before they got locked up here. Comes with the mother of all headaches, and trust me, you don't want to ever have to deal with Lev when he has a migraine."

"So what happened?" Dean asked because Jimmy had specifically told him that he had never spoken to Cas and Castiel acted like he had no idea who Leviathan was. It was hard enough trying to figure out when Leviathan was telling the truth, now he wasn't sure any of them were being completely truthful.

Gabriel ran his fingers gently through Tommy's hair, his brother humming contently and traced his hand with a green crayon. "You know how things go."

"No actually, I _don't_." And he really didn't. Dean hardly knew anything about Castiel or any of the other alters; he didn't even know what happened to make Castiel fracture like he did. "I don't really know anything about him."

"Well that makes you one lucky bastard." Tommy looked up at Gabriel and shook his head at his brother's cursing. Gabriel smiled apologetically and handed him a new piece of paper. "Look Dean, I'm gonna just lay it all on the table."

"Oh, goodie."

"Castiel has been waiting for his 'righteous man' for a long time. And Leviathan-"

"Who I'm not sleeping with," Dean interrupted. "I just _really_ want to stress that fact."

"You know, I actually believe that," Gabriel grinned, unwrapping a lollipop and sucking it into his mouth. "Which is a really good thing, you don't want to know what happens when Levi gets bored of someone."

"Leviathan is bad," Tommy piped up.

"The point is, Castiel, Leviathan, Misha, Emmanuel, they all like you. Hell even Jimmy likes you and he doesn't like anyone. And it's great that my baby bro is finally getting along with his classmates but he's been through enough shit in his life that I don't need you messing around with him."

"Messing around?"

"I'm just saying if you two get along, that's great but if you're trying to pass the time with the resident freak then we have a problem." Gabriel was practically glaring at Dean, the look made even harsher by the fact that Dean had never been met with anything but a cheeky smile.

"He's not a freak!" Dean snapped.

"And if you hurt him, I'll mess you up so bad they'll need dental records to identify your body." The smile twitched back onto Gabriel's face and he turned back to Tommy. "Whoa, that was an intense conversation!"

"I drew a picture of you and Dean fighting," Tommy proclaimed proudly and handed his paper to Gabriel.

"Well look at that, glad to know you were able to capture my rugged good looks." Gabriel flicked the paper over the one of the shiny characters.

"That's Dean, you're the fat one."

"Hey!" Gabriel frowned and folded up the paper. "I'm not fat."

"All you eat is candy. Mrs. Novak says you're gonna weight a bazillion pounds one day."

"Mom should mind her own business, it's not like she pays my dentist bills." Gabriel snorted. He shoved the drawing into his pocket and rose to his feet. "I gotta go kiddo, you going to be ok here with Dean?"

"I guess," Tommy shot a quick glance at Dean and smiled before he went back to his drawing. Gabriel winked at Dean and ruffled Tommy's hair before he left, leaving the two of them alone again. Dean rolled down onto his stomach next to Tommy who ripped a sheet of paper off his pad and handed it to Dean. "Do you want to colour too?"

"Sure," Dean nodded. He picked the brown crayon, one of the few that weren't half used up already from Tommy's frantic colouring. "I don't really know what I should draw…"

"Just draw what makes you happy, like how I draw teddy bears."

There wasn't too many things that made Dean happy these days and he had a feeling if he drew a busty Asian holding a bottle of wild turkey Tommy wouldn't like his drawing very much. Instead he drew his house. Well, his dad's house; he still didn't feel totally comfortable calling it his house because even though he legally owned it, he hadn't lived in since he was discharged. It looked so bland though, so he drew the Impala next to it, the way it was before it got smashed up. It still looked like a crappy picture so he scribbled out the likeness of him and Sam.

"So, what'd you draw?" Tommy asked cheerfully when Dean dropped his crayon.

"See, this is me and this is Sam, my brother." Dean tapped the crayon against the half assed drawing, not that he could have down much better with the four bland crayons he was given.

"He looks like a moose." Tommy's nose crinkled and he rubbed a finger over the image of Sam that was crooked, bent and drawn entirely in brown.

"Yeah, I guess he does." Dean snatched some of the Tommy's crayons while he was distracted. He quickly drew another figure next to him, completing it with a halo and a pair of wings. "And that's Castiel."

"Oh," Tommy's eyes brightened "you live with Castiel."

"Uh, no. He's just visiting my house, I guess." Dean coloured in the silver rims on the car. "So you know Castiel?"

"Yep," Tommy smiled, tracing his hand with a red crayon. "He's nice. He used to leave me notes to tell me what a good job I did on my Sunday school homework."

"So I drew you a picture of my family, why don't you draw me one of yours?"

"That's boring," Tommy scoffed and added bunny ears on the circle he just drew.

"That's okay." Dean tapped his fingers nervously on his drawing. "So you know Castiel and you know Jimmy."

"Yep."

"Do you uh, do you know Leviathan too?"

Tommy shifted uncomfortably, his lines turned into a random mess, going over his carefully drawn animals. "Leviathan does bad things."

"Like what?"

"He made Mr. Novak leave," his mouth twisted into sharp frown "and he makes Mrs. Novak sick and that makes Gabriel sad."

He tapped his fingers on the paper, Dean could tell he was nervous but he kept pushing. "It's okay, you can tell me."

"He does things with boys he isn't supposed to, and he kissed Suzy so she doesn't play with me anymore. Mrs. Novak tried to make him better but he didn't listen so…"

"So?" Dean pressed but he doesn't get an answer. He put a hand on Tommy's shoulder and the boy jumped in surprised, "Tommy, what happens when he doesn't listen?"

"If Leviathan just did what he was told then he wouldn't have to be punished."

"What do you mean punished?"

Tommy's breath came out if shaky pants, Dean knew he was starting to panic and he should back off but he was finally getting some answers. "Leviathan makes people do bad things. It's not his fault that Leviathan makes him do that."

"Do what? Tommy what are you talking about?" Tommy huffed out and his hands started to twirl in messy circles. He pressed so hard that the crayon ripped right through paper and left angry red marks on the floor. He kept going over and over until the crayon snapped under the force and when it crumbled in his hand, Tommy burst into tears. Dean tried to sooth him, running a hand up and down his spine but Tommy dug his fingers into his scalp and tugged on his hair. Dean tried to loosen Tommy's grip on himself but Tommy just thrashed his legs and rolled away from Dean, letting out a loud screech as more tears flooded out of his eyes. "Tommy, please. Come on man, it's okay."

"No, no, no, no!" Tommy cried. Nurse Pam finally looked up from her station and began to make her way over. Dean kept trying to calm Tommy but he only sobbed harder, kicking his legs up and down.

"What did you do?" Pam asked.

"Nothing! We were just talking and- Tommy, buddy, please stop crying."

"Tommy!" Luc snapped and stood up from the coach. "If I hear one more sound coming from you, I'll give something to cry about."

Tommy chocked back another wave of tears, some of them still spilling down his cheeks but his sob was cut short. Luc stared him down and though Tommy was no longer crying, Dean could see him start to shake. Pam rose to her feet, grabbed Luc and started pulling him away, "Okay, that's enough."

As soon as Luc turned and broke eye contact, Tommy scrambled up on his knees and threw himself at Dean. Dean was almost knocked over by Tommy's weight. He wrapped his arms around Dean's neck and buried his head under his chin. Dean stiffened and it wasn't just because of how close Tommy was, because of his hot breath on his neck or the way his knee was shoved between Dean's thighs, but everyone was staring. Everyone was watching and waiting to see what he'd do, like they expected him to flip out again and hurt Tommy like he had Castiel. Dean swallowed hard at the realization that everyone thought he was some violent, uncontrollable, whack-job.

"It's okay, Tommy," Dean whispered and wrapped his arm around his back.

"He was gonna hurt me," Tommy whimpered and tightened his hold on Dean.

"No one's going to hurt you Tommy. I'll make sure no one hurts you," Dean promised. He buried his face against Tommy's hair to block out everyone else. They didn't know him; they didn't know anything about him.

Tommy hugged the pillow tightly to his chest, his eyes barely peeking out over the edge, staring uncertainly at the floor. The moon outside was swallowed by the smoky clouds and blocked out the tiny slivers of light that leaked into the room. Tommy gulped at the darkness that bled over his floor and under his bed.

_Jimmy_, he whispered in his mind

_**What?**_

_I'm scared._

_**There's nothing to be afraid of Tommy.**_

_There's a monster under the bed._

_**You know there's no such thing.**_

_I want Gabriel. _

_**Gabriel's not here.**_

_I bet Dean knows how to kill monsters._

_**Dean needs to sleep.**_

_I won't wake him, I promise._

_**Tommy, if you get out of this bed you will be in so much trouble.**_ Tommy flinched, not because of Jimmy's harsh tone but because of the tight pain behind his eyes. He never understood why talking to Jimmy made is head hurt but sometimes he thinks that it's because Jimmy might be bad too, just like Leviathan and it made him wish he could ask Castiel about it. But Castiel didn't talk to him anymore and he didn't leave him notes like he used to. Maybe Tommy was bad too.

Dean didn't get too many night of peaceful sleep and apparently this wasn't going to one of them either. Dean's nose crunched up when he felt something blow against his face, he cracked open a lazy eye and found a pair of bright blue eyes mere inches from Dean's face. "Tommy?"

"There's a monster under my bed," Tommy looked down nervously and tightened his grip on the pillow. "Can you kill it?"

"Tommy," Dean groaned, pulling the blanket over his head "it's like two in the morning."

"It wants to eat me," the kid whispered. He shuffled his knees closer till he was pressed against the bed and tugged on Dean's blanket. "Can I sleep with you?"

Dean's eyes snapped open and he sat up, the shock of Tommy's question overpowering the effects of his sleeping meds. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"Why not?" Tommy asked but he was already crawling into his bed.

Dean could list of a hundred reasons why it was a bad idea. _It's too hot in here, there isn't enough room, people will talk, because if Castiel wakes up in bed with me he'll have that look he gets when people get too close, because if Castiel wakes up with him he'd never speak to Dean again_. "We just can't."

"But I'm scared," Tommy mumbled, sliding under the covers next to Dean. "You said you wouldn't let anything hurt me."

Dean stared down at the fully-grown yet inexplicably childish man lying down next to him. Tommy's eyes were already starting to droop and Dean weighed the options of fighting with him or just going back to sleep. He reasoned that the amount of effort it would take to convince Tommy to go back his own room wasn't worth it this early in the morning. Dean let himself fall back on the bed, careful to not let himself get too close to Tommy who was now fast asleep.

Dean woke up with a headache and a warm body pressed against him. A lazy grin broke out over his lips, thinking he must have scored at the bar last night. The grin turned into a disappointed groan when he opens his eyes to ugly faded blue wallpaper. Tommy's arms are wrapped around his torso and his chest pressed tight against Dean's back. Dean tries to wiggle out of Tommy's embrace but he doesn't seem to want to budge, instead Dean manages to turn around and gently push on Tommy's shoulder. "Tommy."

"Five more minutes, mommy," Tommy murmured into Dean's chest.

"Come one, it's time to get up." Dean nudged at Tommy's shoulder again but he just snuggled closer. "Hey now, none of that."

Dean pinched his fingers over Tommy's nose and waits till he runs out of air and gasps awake. Tommy rolled onto his back and blinked sleepily up at the ceiling and then over to Dean. "I'm still tired."

"I know," Dean chuckled and did up some of the buttons on Tommy's shirt that had come loose during the night. "Missouri said she'd grab some Lucky Charms when she went home last night."

Tommy doesn't look all that excited over the prospect of breakfast and bluntly tells Dean, "I want Trix cereal."

"Seriously? After the big fuss you made yesterday?"

Tommy tugged on Dean's shirt and tried to pull him back on the bed. "I want to sleep in."

"Well, maybe you can have a nap later," Dean tried to negotiate. "If you get up now I'll let you wear one of my shirts again."

Tommy considered Dean's proposal and after a long moment pushed himself up and asked, "I want the one with the dragon."

Tommy put on Dean's Metallica and after a little pushing he also let's Dean put on a hoodie over that. Dean just didn't want to see him all marked up. Missouri, as luck would have it, was used to the changing will of Tommy's seven year old mind and had bought one of those eight packs of mini cereal boxes. Tommy ended up combining the Lucky Charms and Count Chocula into a single bowl and Dean was surprised he didn't O.D. from the sugar.

Just after they finished eating, Jo walked over to them holding a yellow gift bag. She crouched down next to the table beside Tommy and set the bag down on the table. "Hello Tommy."

"Hi," Tommy grinned.

"My names Jo and I work here." Dean hears the way Jo lowers her voice and knows the reason she's bending over next to Tommy is to look less threatening. He's noticed all the staff does that, like they're approaching sleeping lions that could pounce at any wrong move. "Pam told me you had a bit of a rough time yesterday."

Tommy nodded sadly and Jo pushed the bag closer to him. "Well I thought this might cheer you up."

Tommy snatched the bag up and unceremoniously dumped its contents on the table. A VHS of Aladdin fell out first but was soon covered in tiny paint bottles, paintbrushes and paper. His face instantly lit up and he tried to pick everything up at once while making a high pitch squeal. Jo gave him a genuine smile and patted his shoulder when she stood up. "Well, I'll talk to you again after lunch. Maybe you can show me some of the things you painted?"

Tommy eagerly nodded and was already snapping open a paint bottle and grabbing for a brush. Dean can already see the mess the paints are going to cause and is up following Jo before Tommy puts pen to paper. "Hey! Ms. Harvelle!"

"It's just Jo, Dean. I don't know why Candice insists that people call me 'Ms.'."

"You're really just going to give him all that shit and then just walk away?" Dean asked.

"You bet."

"He's going to make a huge mess."

"I'm sure you won't mind cleaning it up." Jo teased. Dean shook his head, hell if he was doing that. Now he kind of hoped Tommy made a mess just so Dr. Hill or Jo would have to clean it up. He looked over his shoulder and watched Tommy happily paint some leaves on a tree. "You two are good together."

"Together?" Dean asked turning back to Jo. "What do you mean 'together'?"

"Well it's just, isn't he…your boyfriend?"

"What?" Dean scoffed. "No, no way in hell! That's sick, he's only seven."

Jo shot him a strange look and Dean cringed when he realized his error. "I mean, I know _he_ isn't seven, but Tommy- Cas- why do you think we're dating anyways?"

Jo blushed and looked away awkwardly. "Luc told me you two…"

"Well," Luc said from behind Dean, "so much for doctor-patient privilege."

Dean and Jo both turned back around to where Tommy, and now Luc, was sitting. Tommy was still dragging the paintbrush over the paper but with no enthusiasm; he had all but curled in on himself trying to shrink away from Luc.

"What's the matter, Tommy? Don't you like me?"

"I like you," Tommy said weakly.

"Buzz off," Dean ordered slamming his hand down in front of Luc. Jo coughed nervously next to Dean but didn't tell him to back away from Luc either.

"Oh my," Luc drawled in his usual condescending tone "someone's cranky today."

"You know after getting to know you, I don't find it all that surprising that your brother killed himself." Dean expected Luc to flinch at the comment but Luc's only reaction was tiny smile breaking out over his lips.

"Yes, I get that a lot." Luc reached across the table so the tips of his fingers brushed against Tommy's painting. "You don't want me to go, do you Tommy?"

Tommy rolled his shoulders in a meek shrug but they both knew Tommy was just too scared of Luc to say anything.

"For God's sake," Dean growled and tugs his hand into his back pocket. He tossed six quarters on the table, it wasn't much but it was literally all he had. "Just leave okay? Take the money and go bother someone else."

Dean was pretty sure that Luc didn't have anybody to call but he'd probably be able to exchange it for something with someone who did. Luc looked wearily at the coins but picks them up one by before winking at Tommy and getting up to leave. Dean plunked down next to Tommy who was still visibly shaken by Luc's presence. Dean puts a hand on his back, rubbing up and down his back and Tommy mutters out a soft "thank you."

"It's cool," Dean assured him. "Luc's a jerk anyways."

"I made this for you." Tommy slides his painting over to Dean and looked away shyly. Dean picked it up, careful not to touch the wet paint, and examined the two messy people Tommy had painted. "It's us."

"Well it's pretty awesome, buddy." Dean grinned. "How about I tell Ruby to get lost and we can watch Aladdin again?"

Tommy finally smiled and he puts the caps back on his paints before jumping up and running over to the television. When Dean stood up he found Jo looking at him with a snarky smile. "What?"

"I'm just admiring how well you and your not-boyfriend get along."

They end up watching Aladdin another four times, with only a short break in between for dinner. Each time Tommy gets a little more engrossed in the film and each time Dean gets a little more bored. Every time Jafar turned into a snake Tommy would tap Dean's knee and tell him to pay attention like Dean had spent the whole movie with his eyes shut and fingers jammed in his ear. He wasn't really sure at what point he fell asleep but when he woke up there was a kink in his neck and he was alone.

"What the hell?" Dean groaned. He swiped a hand over his cheek and it came back covered in wet green. He looked down at his shirt and found it covered in paint, a flower drawn on his hand, little smiley faces trailed up his arm up until Tommy must have gotten lazy because there's a big red hand print by Dean's shoulder.

"Tommy!" Dean growled, pushing himself up onto his knees. Tommy isn't in sight but it isn't hard to figure out that he's at the end of the trail of purple footprints. It leads him over to the couch and he finds Tommy sitting behind it, drawing a giraffe on the floor. "Tommy, did you do this?"

"No," he lied, like he wasn't covered in paint from his the tip of his fingers of his fingers up to his elbows.

"Bullshit."

"I didn't!" Tommy insisted, he crossed his arms over his chest and left sludge lines of purple and red paint.

"Who did then?"

"It was Luc!" Tommy huffed.

Dean dropped down to his knees and grabbed Tommy by his shoulders. "Tommy, do you know what happens to little boys who lie?"

Tommy gasped and pulled away from Dean. His eyes went cloudy for only half a second before they turned steely. The change was so quick it caught Dean off guard; he'd never seen the alters transition so quickly but he was suddenly looking at a very confused Castiel. He looked down at his dirty hands and the mess he'd made on his clothes. "How did I- Dean, what is this mess?"

"I don't think there's a way I can explain it that you'd understand,"

"Oh," is all Castiel says and Dean was damn grateful he didn't question Dean any further. "I suppose I should go clean up."

"Right," Dean stood up and helped Castiel to his feet "I'll go start the shower."

Dean turned to leave but Castiel didn't follow, when he turned back to see what was keeping the 'angel' he found Castiel giving him a sour look. "I am fully capable of cleaning myself."

"Uh, yeah, right, I know that," Dean felt the blood rise up to his cheeks and he tried to laugh it off before Castiel tried to figure out what was going on. "Well, I'll just leave you to that."

Dean went up to have his own shower, peeling off his shirt and trying to rinse off some of the paint before he gave up and just let it fall to the floor. When the water running off his body runs clear instead of a liquid rainbow he shut the water off and reached for his towel. Dean rubbed it over his damp hair before slinging it over his waist and walking back to his room.

Castiel was sitting on his bed, hair damp and without his trench coat or jacket, his white button shirt sticking to his damp skin. He took in Dean's barely covered form and his cheeks flushed and Castiel's eyes dropped to the floor.

"My apologizes." Castiel swallowed, twisting around on the bed so his back was turned to Dean. "I didn't realize you'd be…indecent."

"S'all good," Dean mumbled. He quickly grabbed whatever was on lying on the top of his dresser and going back to the bathroom to change. When he came out Castiel was still facing the wall, he didn't budge even when Dean sat down next to him. "What's up?"

"I wanted to apologize. I know I haven't been around as often as you would like."

"You haven't?" Dean asked surprised. He didn't think Castiel was aware of his many absences.

"Much of the time I'd rather be here." Castiel shifted nervously on the bed finally glancing over at Dean. "Can I tell you something if you promise not to tell another soul?"

"I guess."

"My father isn't…I don't know where he is." Dean resisted the urge to roll his eyes as this seemed like serious business. But he had yet to go an entire day without Castiel bringing up his search for God, it was actually starting to get a bit annoying. "Something has replaced him."

"Replaced God?"

"I am not completely certain what it is. I've never seen him and I only hear him occasionally but when I do he calls me away."

It took Dean a minute to realize exactly whom they were talking about: the would-be God that was always popping up at the most inconvenient time. "It's okay."

Dean wasn't sure what else to say. Castiel looked so downcast and it would be hard for Dean to convince Castiel he hadn't let him down when he was so sure he had. "Leaving you with all these demons…"

"Hey, I manage." Dean tried joking but Castiel didn't seem all that impressed. "I know you try."

"I should be trying harder," Castiel responded bitterly.


End file.
